Full text of "The Romaunt of the Rose. Rendered out of the French into English by Geoffrey Chaucer and illustrated by Keith Henderson & Norman Wilkinson of Four Oaks"

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THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

ILLUSTRATIONS

AS BYRDE IN BOUR Frontispiece
IOLYF AND GAY To face page 2

IN AT THE WIKET WENT I THO 8

THE DAUNCE 10

MYNSTRALES 1 2

THE GOD OF LOVE 14

YDELNESSE 16

LOVE PURSUING 20

THE BOTHOUN 22

THE THREE ARROWS OF LOVE 24

PEYNE 42

THE LOVER LISTENING TO REASOUN 44

UNTO MY FREEND, AND TOLDE HYM ALL 46

" A, BIALACOIL, MYN OWNE DEERE " 58

SWEET REASON 62

YOUTHE AND DELITE 66

"MI MODIR IS OF GRET PROWESSE " 78

" IF THAT I WERE GOD OF RICHESSE " 80

DAME ABSTINENCE-STREYNED 84

THE END 102

Of the above Illustrations, the Frontispiece and those
facing pages 2, 10, 16, 20, 42, 44, 46, 80, and 102 are by
KEITH HENDERSON; those facing pages 8, 12, 14, 22, 24, 58,
62, 66, 78, and 84 are by NORMAN WILKINSON.

HERE BEGINS THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE BY GUILLAUME
DE LORRIS AND JEH AN DE MEUNG : RENDERED OUTOF THE
FRENCH INTO ENGLISH BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER

ANY men sayn that in
sweveninges

Ther nys but fables and

lesynges ;
But men may some swevenes sene
Whiche hardely that false ne bene,
But afterwarde ben apparaunt.
This maye I drawe to warraunt
An authour that hight Macrobes,
That halte nat dremes false ne lees,
But undothe us the avysioun
That whilom mette kyng Cipioun.
And who-so saith, or we'rie'th it be
A jajp£, or elles nycete, U&&MMS
To wene that dremes after falle,
Lette who so lyste a folc me calle.
For this trowe I, and say for me,
That dremes signifiaunce be
Of good and harme to many wightes,
That dremen in her slepe a nyghtes
Ful many thynges covertly,
That fallen after al openly.

Within my twenty yere of age,
Whan that Love taketh his cariage
' Of yonge folke, I wente soone
To bedde, as I was wont to done,
And faste I slepte ; and in slepyng
Me mette suche a swevenyng
That lyked me wonder wele.
But in that sweven is never a dele
That it nys afterwarde befalle,

For Love it prayeth and also
Commaundeth me that it be so.
And if there any aske me,
Whether that it be he or she,
Howe [wil I] this booke whiche is here
Shal hatte, that I rede you here ;
It is the Romance of the Rose,
In whiche al the Arte of Love I close.

The mater fayre is of to make :
God graunt me in gree that she it take
For whom that it begonnen is !
And that is she that hath y-wis
So mochel pris, and therto she
So worthy is biloved to be
That she wel ought of pris and ryght
Be cleped Rose of every wight.

That it was May me thoughte tho —
It is .V. yere or more ago —
That it was May thus dremed me,
In tyme of love and jolite,
That al thing gynneth waxen gay.
For ther is neither busk nor hay
In May that it nyl shrouded bene,
And it with newe leves wrene.
These wodes eek recoveren grene
That drie in wynter ben to sene.
And the erthe wexith proude withalle
For swote dewes tha,t on it falle,
And [al] the pore estat forgette

In which that wynter had it sette.
Ryght as this dreme wol tel us alle. And than bycomeththegroundsoproude,

That it wole have a newe shroude,

Nowe this dreme wol I ryme a-right And makith so queynt his robe and faire
To make your hertes gaye and lyght, That it hath hewes an hundred payre,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Of gras and flouris, ynde and pers, Alone I wente in my plaiyng,

And many hewes ful dyvers. The smale foules song harknyng,

That is the robe I mene, y-wis, That peyned hem ful many peyre

Through whiche the ground to preisen is. To synge on bowes blosmed fey re.

lolyf and gay, ful of gladnesse,

The byrdes that han lefte her song
While thei suffride cold so strong,
In $e*tfres gryl and derk to sight,
Ben in May, for the sonne bright,
So glade that they shewe in syngyng,
That in her hertis is sich lykyng,
That they mote syngen and be light.
Than doth the nyghtyngale hir myght
To make noyse and syngen blythe ;
Than is blisful many sithe
The chelaundre and [the] papyngay.
Than yonge folk entenden ay ttfe/

Forto ben gay and amorous.

The tyme is than so saverous,

Hard is the hert that loveth nought

In May, whan al this mirth is wrought ; My face I wysshe. Tho saugh I well

Whan he may on these braunches here The botme paved everydell

Toward a ry ver gan I me dresse,
That I herd renne faste by,
For fairer plaiyng non saugh I
Than playen me by that ryvere.
For from an hill that stood ther nere,
Cam doun the streme ful stif and bold ;
Cleer was the water and as cold
As anywelle is» sotn to seyne.
And smrToele lasse it was than Seyne,
But it was strayghter, wel away ;
And never saugh I, er that day,
The watir that so wel lyked me,
And wondir glad was I to se
That lusty place and that ryvere.
And with that watir that ran so clere

The smale briddes syngen clere
Her blesful swete song pitous.
And in this sesoun delytous,
Whan love affraieth alle thing,
Me thoughte a-nyght, in my sleping
Right in my bed, ful redily
That it was by the morowe erly,
And up I roos, and gan me clothe.
Anoon I wisshe myn hondis bothe.
A sylvre nedle forth y droughe
Out of an aguler queynt ynoughe,
And gan this nedle threde anon ;
For out of toun me list to gon
The song of briddes forto here,
That in thise buskes syngen clere.
And in the swete seson that lefe is,
With a threde bastyng my slevis,

With gravel ful of stones shene.

The medewe softe, swote, and grene,

Beet right on the watir syde.

Ful clere was than the morowtyde,

And ful attempre, out of drede.

Tho gan I walke thorough the mede,

Dounward ay in my pleiyng

The ryver syde costeiyng.

And whan I had a while goon,

I saugh a gardyn right anoon,

Ful long and brood, and euerydell

Enclosed was, and walled well

With highe walles enbatailled,

Portraied without and wel entailled

With many riche portraitures.

And bothe the ymages and peyntures

Gan I biholde bysyly ;

IOLYF AND GAY

THE ROMAUNT OF THE
Of gras and flouris, ynde and pers, Alone 1 wente i

And many hewes ful dyvers. The smale foulc

That is the robe I mene, y-wis, That peyned he

Through whiche the ground to prcisen is. To synge on bo^

lolyf and gay, r\

The byrde r song

While theisui)

ng,

ig,

peyre
i fey re.

es gryl and derk to

• in May, for the
S« r hey shewe in

is-sich 1

That they mote syngen arid be light.
Than doth the nv hir myght

To make noyse an n blythe ;

Than is blisful mar
The chehur

Than yonge folk tntcnden ay
Forto ben gay and amorous.
'I'hc tyrne is than so saverouR,
Hard is the hert that loveth n»m.
In May, whan al this mirth is w;
Whan he may on these braunci:
The smale briddes syngen clerc
Her blesful swetc song pitous.
And in this seaoun delytous,
Whan lore a&rateth alle thing,
Me thoughte a-nv ght, in my slepiog
Right in my bed. ;;jy

That it was by che morowc et
And up i roos, and gan me clot^
AntK>n I ^: -ivn hondis bothe.
A sylvrc ncdlt
Out of an agok
And gan this m
For out of toun
The song c>

Toward a r

That I

Por fa: i \ I

Than pi y that ryvt

For from aii hill t ncre,

Cam doun the 1 bold ;

As ar. h to sc

•^M^MM

t ^STrioele las*e it was than Seyne,

r glad v »c

•

it watir that ran so clerc
.she, Tho saugh I well
!me paved everydell
ravel ful of stones shcne.
c* inedewe softe, swotc, and grene,
i

wtvdc,
*

•-.it.

nede,

.n, .

I hat m this,

And in the swctc

With a threde ': nnv clevis.

1 saugh a gar> noon,

£ and brood, and euerydeli
YAO Q>IA lYJOJ vvas> and walled wcjl

iut to gon -e walles enbatailled,

\ forto here, PortT*tcd without and wel entailled

^en clere. V* 'traitures.

'> ;' j«i tad peyntures

\ •»

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And I wole telle you redyly

Of thilk ymages the semblaunce,

As fer as I have remembraunce.

Amydde saugh I HATE stonde,
That for hir wrathe, yre, and onde
Semede to ben a meveresse,
An angry wight, a chideresse ;
And ful of gyle and felle corage
By semblaunt was that ilk ymage.
And she was no thyng wel arraied,
But lyk a wode womman afraied.
Y-frounced foule was hir visage
And grennyng for dispitous rage ;
Hir nose snorted up for tenc. *}£$
Ful hidous was she forto sene,
Ful foule and rusty was she this;
Her heed y-wmnen was, y-wis,^ v»
Ful grymly with a greet towayle.1^

An ymage of another entayle

A lyft half was hir faste by ;

Hir name above hir heed saugh I,

And she was called FELONYE.

Another ymage, that VILANYE

Y-clepid was, saugh I and fonde

Upon the wal on hir right honde.

Vilany was lyk somdel

That other ymage, and, trustith wel,

She semede a wikked creature.

By countenaunce in portrayture

She semed be ful dispitous,

And eek ful proude and outragious.

Wel coude he peynte, I undirtake,

That sich ymage coude make.

Ful foule and cherlysshe semed she,

And eek vylayneus forto be,

And litel coude of norriture

To worshipe any creature.

And next was peynted COVEITISE,
That eggith folk in many gise
To take and yeve right nought ageyne,
And gret tresouris up to leyne.
And that is she that for usure
Leneth to many a creature,
The lasse for the more wynnyng,
So coveteise is her brennyng.^^-^
And that is she for penyes fele,
That techith forto robbe and stele
These theves and these smale harlotes ;
And that is roiitJi^ for by her throtes
Ful many oon hangith at the laste.
She makith folk compasse and caste
To taken other folkis thyng
Through robberie or myscounting.
And that is she that makith trechoures
And she makith false pleadoures,
That, with hir termes and hir
Doon maydens, children, & eek gromes
Her heritage to forgo.
Ful croked were hir hondis two,
For coveitise is evere wode
To gripen other folkis gode ;
Coveityse for hir wynnyng
Ful leef hath other mennes thing.

Another ymage set saugh I
Next Coveitise faste by,
And she was clepid AVARICE.
Ful foule in peyntyn&was that vice,

T-> i c J ^Of^ir *Wtf^T

Ful fade and cdytif was she eek,
And also grene as ony leek.
So yvel hewed was hir colour
Hir semed to have lyved in langour ;
She was lyk thyng for hungre deed,
That ladde hir lyf oonly by breed
Kneden with eisel strong and egre ;
And therto she was lene and megre.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And she was clad ful porely ^

Al in an old torn courtepy, £**^ <***

As she were al with doggis torne ;

And both bihynde and eke biforne

Clouted was she beggarly.

A mantyl henge hir faste by,

Upon a perche weike and small ;

A burnet cote henge therwith-all,

Furred with no menyvere

But with a furre rough of here,

Of lambe skynnes hevy and blake ;

It was ful old I undirtake,

For Avarice to clothe hir well

Ne hastith hir neveradell.

For certeynly it were hir loth

To weren ofte that ilke cloth ;

And if it were forwered she

Wolde have ful gret necessite

Of clothyng, er she bought hir newe,

Al were it bad of woll and hewe.

This Avarice hilde in hir hande

A purs that henge [doun] by a bande,

And that she hidde and bonde so strong,

Men must abyde wondir long,

Out of that purs er ther come ought ;

For that ne cometh not in hir thought.

It was not, certein, hir entent

That fro that purs a peny went.

And by that ymage nygh ynough

She is ful glade in hir corage,

If she se any gretc lynage

Be brought to nought in shamful wise.

And if a man in honour rise,

Or by his witte or by his prowesse,

Of that hath she gret hevynesse.

For trustith wel she goth nygh wode,

Whan any chaunge happith gode.

Envie is of such crueltee

That fcith ne trouth[e] holdith she

To freend ne felawe, bad or good.

Ne she hath kynne noon of hir blood,

That she nys ful her enemye ;

She nolde, I dar seyn hardelye,

Hir owne fadir ferde well.

And sore abieth she everydell

Hir malice and hir male talent,

For she is in so gret turment

Andhathsuch[wo]whanfolkdothgood,

That nygh she meltith for pure wood ;

Hir herte kervyth and so brekith,

That god the puple wel a-wrekith.

Envie, i-wis, shal nevere lette

Som blame upon the folk to sette ;

I trowe that if Envie, i-wis,

Knewe the beste man that is

On this side, or biyonde the see,

Yit somewhat lakken hym wolde she ;

And if he were so hende and wis,

That she ne myght al abate his pris,

Was peynted ENVYE, that never lough, Yit wolde she blame his worthynesse,

Nor never wel in hir herte ferde,
But if she outher saugh or herde
Som gret myschaunce, or gret disese.
No thyng may so moch hir plese
As myschef and mysaventure ;
Or whan she seeth discomfiture
Upon ony worthy man falle,
That likith hir wel with alle.

Or by hir wordis make it lesse.

I saugh Envie in that peyntyng

Hadde a wondirful lokyng,

For she ne lokide but awrie,

Or overthart all baggyngly.

And she hadde a foule usage,

She myght loke in no visage

Of man or womman forth-right pleyn,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

But shette hir one eye for disdeyn ;
So for Envie brenned she,
Whan she myght any man y-se
That faire or worthi were, or wise,
Or elles stode in folkis pryse.

SORWE was peynted next Envie

Upon that wall of masonrye,

But wel was seyn in hir colour

That she hadde lyved in langour ;

Hir semcde to have the jaunyce.

Nought half so pale was Avarice,

Nor no thyng lyk [as] of lenesse ;

For sorowe, thought, and gret distresse, To make joye on even or morowe,

That she hadde suffred day and nyght, For joy is contrarie unto sorowe.

Made hirfulyolweandno thyng bright,

That had [he] sene her sorowes smerte,
That nolde have had of her pyte,
So wo begone a thyng was she.
She al to-dassht her-selfe for woo,
And smote togyder her hondes two.
To sorowe was she ful ententyfe
That woful rechelesse cay tyfe ;
Her roughte lytel of playing
Or of clypping, or [of] kissyng;
For who so sorouful is in herte,
Him luste not to play ne sterte,
Ne for to dauncen, ne to synge,
Ne may his herte in temper bringe,

Ful fade, pale, and megre also.

Was never wight yit half so wo

As that hir semede forto be,

Nor so fulfilled of ire as she.

I trowe that no wight myght hir please,

Nor do that thyng that myght hir ease ;

Nor she ne wolde hir sorowe slake

Nor comfort noon unto hir take,

So depe was hir wo bigonnen

And eek hir hert in angre ronnen.

A sorowful thyng wel semed she,

Nor she hadde no thyng slowe be

Forto forcracchen al hir face,

And forto rent in many place

Hir clothis, and forto tere hir swire,

As she that was fulfilled of ircT"

[And al to-torn lay eek hir here

Aboute hir shuldris here and there,

As she that hadde it al to-rent

For angre, and for maltalent.

And eek I telle you certeynly

-low that she wepe ful tendirly.

ELDE was paynted after this,
That shorter was a foote, i-wys,
Than she was wonte in her yonghede.
Unneth her selfe she mighte fede ;
So feble and eke so olde was she
That faded was al her beaute.
Ful salowe was waxen her colour ;
Her heed for hore was whyte as flour,
I-wys great qualme ne were it none,
Ne synne, al though her ly fe were gone ;
Al woxen was her body unwelde,
And drie and dwyned al for eldc.
A foule forwelked thyng was she,
That whylom rounde and softe had be ;
Her eeres shoken faste withall,
As from her heed they wolde fall ;
Her face frounced and forpyned,
Andbotheherhondeslorne,fordwyned.
So olde she was that she ne went
A foote, but it were by potent.
The tyme that passeth nyght and daye,
And restelesse travayleth aye,

n worlde nys wyght so harde of herte And steleth from us so prively,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That to us semeth so sykerly
That it in one poynt dwelleth ever ;
And certes it ne resteth never,
But gothe so faste, and passeth aye,
That there nys man that thynke may
What tyme that nowe present is ;
Asketh at these clerkes this.
For [or] men thynke it redily
Thre tymes ben y-passed by.
The tyme that may not sojourne,
But goth and may never retourne,
As watir that doun renneth ay,
But never drope retourne may.
Ther may no thing as tyme endure,
Metall nor erthelv creature ;
For alle thing it frette and shall.
The tyme eke that chaungith all,
And all doth waxe and fostred be,
And alle thing distroieth he ;

These olde folk have alwey colde,
Her kynde is sich whan they ben olde.

Another thing was don there write,
That semede lyk an ipocrite,
And it was clepid POOPE HOLY.
That ilk is she that pryvely
Ne spareth never a wikked dede
Whan men of hir taken noon hede.
And maketh hir outward precious
With pale visage and pitous,
And semeth a simple creature.
But ther nys no mysaventure
That she ne thenkith in hir corage.
Ful lyk to hir was that ymage,
That makid was lyk hir semblaunce.
She was ful symple of countenaunce
And she was clothed and eke shod
As she were, for the love of god,

The tyme that eldith our auncessours, Yolden to relygioun,

And eldith kynges and emperours,
And that us alle shal overcomen
Er that deth us shal have nomen ;
The tyme, that hath al in welde
To elden folk, had maad hir elde
So ynly, that to my witing,
She myghtfe] helpe hir silf no thing,
But turned ageyn unto childhede.
She had no thing hir silf to lede,
Ne witte ne pithe in hir holde
More than a child of two yeer olde.
But natheles I trowe that she
Was fairc sumtyme, and fresh to se,
Whan she was in hir rightful age ;
But she was past al that passage,
And was a doted thing bicomen.
A furred cope on had she nomen,
Wei had she clad hir silf and warme,

Sich semede hir devocioun.
A sauter nelde she faste in honde,
And bisily she gan to fonde
To make many a feynt praiere
To god, and to his seyntis dere.
Ne she was gay, ne fresh, ne jolyf,
But semede to be ful ententyf
To gode werkis and to faire,
And therto she had on an haire ;
Ne certis she was fatt no thing,
But semed wery for fasting ;
Of colour pale and deed was she.
From hir the gate ay werned be
Of Paradys, that blisful place.
For sich folk maketh lene her face,
As Crist seith in his Evangile,
To gete prys in toun a while ;
And for a litel glorie veigne

For colde myght elles don hir harme. They lesen god and ek his reigne.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And alderlast of everychon

Was peynted POVERT al aloon,

Fhat not a peny hadde in holde,

All though she hir clothis solde,

And though she shulde an honged be ;

For nakid as a worme was she,

And if the wedir stormy were,

For colde she shulde have dyed there.

She nadde on but a streit oldc sak,

And many a cloute on it ther stak ;

This was hir cote and hir mantell,

No more was there, never a dell,

To clothe hir with, I undirtake ;

Crete leyser hadde she to quake.

And she was putt, that I of talke, j

Fer fro these other, up in an halke ;{^jL

There lurked and there coured she. ?

For pover thing, where so it be,

ts shamefast and dispised ay ;

Acursed may wel be that day

That povere man conceyved is,

For god wote al to selde, i-wys,

[s ony povere man wel fedde

Dr wel araied or [wel] cledde,

3r welbiloved in sich wise

Cn honour that he may arise.

\lle these thingis well avised,

\s I have you er this devysed,

*Vith gold and asure over all

Oepeynted were upon the wall.

Square was the wall and high sumdell.

(inclosed and barred well,

|n stede of hegge, was that gardyne;

Jome nevere shepherde therynne.

'nto that gardyn wel y-wrought

fcVho so that me coude have brought

}y laddre, or elles by degre,

it wolde wel have liked me,

^or sich solace, sich joic and play

I trowe that nevere man ne say,

As was in that place delytous.

The gardeyn was not daungerous

To herberwe briddes many oon,

So riche a yerde was nevere noon

Of briddes songe and braunches grene ;

Therynne were briddes mo I wene

Than ben in all the rewme of Fraunce.

Ful blisful was the accordaunce

Of swete and pitous songe thei made;

For all this world it owghte glade.

And I my-silf so mery ferde,

Whan I her blisful songes herde,

That for an hundreth pounde nolde I,

If that the passage opunly

Hadde be unto me free,

That I nolde entren forto se

Thassemble — god kepe it fro care —

Of briddis whichc therynne ware.

That songen thorugh her mery throtes

Dauncis of love and mery notes.

Whan I thus herde foules synge,

I felle fast in a weymentyng,

By which art, or by what engyne,

I myght come into that gardyne.

But way I couthe fynde noon

Into that gardyne for to goon.

Ne nought wist I if that ther were

Eyther hole or place where,

By which I myght have entre.

Ne ther was noon to teche me,

For I was al aloonc i-wys,

For-wo and angwishis of this.

Til atte last bithought I me,

That by no weye ne myght it be

That ther nas laddre, or wey to passe,

Or hole, into so faire a place.

Tho gan I go a full grete pas,

Envyronyng evene in compas

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The closing of the square wall,
Tyl that I fonde a wiket small,
So shett that I ne myght in gon,
And other entre was ther noon.
Uppon this dore I gan to smyte
That was [so] fetys and so lite,
For other weye coude I not seke.
Ful long I shof, and knokkide eke,
And stood ful long and oft herknyng,
If that I herde ony wight comyng,
Til that dore of thilk entre
A mayden curteys openyde me.
Hir heer was as yelowe of hewe
As ony basyn scoured newe,
Hir flesh [as] tendre as is a chike,
With bente browis smothe and slyke ;
And by mesure large were
The openyng of hir yen clere;
Hir nose of good proporcioun,
Hir yen grey as is a faucoun ;
With swete breth and wel savoured,
Hir face white and wel coloured,
With litel mouth and rounde to see ;
A clove chynne eke hadde she,
Hir nekke was of good fasoun,
In lengthe and gretnesse by resoun,
Withoute bleyne, scabbe, or royne ;
Fro lersalem unto Burgoyne
Ther nys a fairer nekke, i-wys,
To fele how smothe and softe it is.
Hir throte also white of hewe
As snowe on braunche snowed newe.
Of body ful wel wrought was she,
Men neded not in no cuntre
A fairer body forto seke.
And of fyn orfrays hadde she eke
A chapelet so semly oon
Ne werede never mayde upon.
And faire above that chapelet

A rose gerland had she sett.

She hadde [in honde] a gay mirrour,

And with a riche gold tresour

Hir heed was tressed, queyntely.

Hir sieves sewid fetously, VJJ&^L

And forto kepe hir hondis faire

Of gloves white she had a paire.

And she hadde on a cote of grene

Of cloth of Gaunt, withouten wene.

Wel semyde by hir apparayle

She was not wont to gret travayle ;

For whan she kempte was fetisly,

And wel arayed and richely,

Thanne had she don al hir journe.

For merye and wel bigoon was she,

She ladde a lusty lyf in May ;

She hadde no thought by nyght ne day

Of no thyng, but it were oonly

To graythe hir wel and uncouthly.

Whan that this dore hadde opened

This mayfde] semely forto see,

I thanked hir as I best myght,

And axide hir how that she hight,

And what she was I axide eke.

And she to me was nought unmeke,

Ne of hir answer daungerous,

But faire answeride, and seide thus :-

" Lo, sir, my name is YDELNESSE ;

So clepe men me, more and lesse ;

Ful myghty and ful riche am I,

And that of oon thyng namely,

For I entende to no thyng,

But to my joye, and my pleyyng,

And forto kembe and tresse me.

Aqueynted am I and pryve

With Myrthe, lord of this gardyne,

That fro the lande Alexandryne

Made the trees hidre be fette

That in this gardyne ben y-sette.

IN AT THE WICKET WENT I THO

OM AUNT OF !

Thcci
Tyl th.
So she,

And '.••
CJj .
That v
For other •<
Ful Ion* I

A may deai curtc)

Hir hecr w*i as yciowe of hi-

As ony ha^vr, scoured newe,

Hir flesh ;;^' tendre as is a chike,

With benro s smothe and slyke;

And by meite were

The upon- ven clcrc;

Hirn^:< an,

Hir ycr. £T- ucoun ;

With swntc hreth and wcl savoured,

Hir tact; white and wel coloured,

With liiel mmtth and rounde to see;

A clove chynnt. tkt hadde she,

Hir nekke wa* cf good fasoun,

In lengthc and g--cfnc8S€ by resoun,

Withoute bleync, scabbe, or royne ;

Fro lersakm unto BUJ goync

Ther nys a fairer nekkc. v-vvys,

T«J trie how smothe and satte it is.

Hir throte also white of hewe

As snowe on braunche snowed ncwe.

Of body ful wel wrought was she,

Men neded not in no cuntre

A fatrtr body forto scke.

And of >.vs hadde she eke

A on

urrour,

And

A r

She hav

d with

Hir heed w -cly.

Hir sieve
And forto

.gloves v ic had a paire.

And she h i a cote of grene

loth of G; n wene.

,•1 semyde i le

was not v- le ;

. nptc was fetisly,
;i and richely,

,ir journe.

he,
She

She h. i ne dai

Of no thyng, b ily

To graythe hir we! and uncouthly.
Whan that this dore hadde opened n»
This may[de] semely forto see,
I thanked hir as I best mvght,
And axide hir how tb ht,

And what she wa

And she to me wa eke,

Ne of hir answer

as :4-

,O, sir, r r;

jlepe n e ;

Ful myghty and ful riche am I,
And that of oon thyng namely,
For I cntendc to ;

-tr me.
,ted am 1

.gvirdyne,

That fro the Ian de A: vne

Made the tr
That in this gardync ben y-sette.

OHT I TH3W

3HT TA VII

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And whan the trees were woxen on hight, Into that gardyne faire to see.

This wall, that stant heere in thi sight, And whan I was inne i-wys,

Dide Myrthe enclosen al aboute. Myn herte was ful glad of this.

And these ymages al withoute For wel wende I ful sikerly

He dide hem bothe entaile and peynte, Have ben in Paradys erthly ;

That neithir ben jolyf ne queynte, So faire it was that, trusteth wel,

But they ben ful of sorowe and woo, It semede a place espirituel.

As thou hast seen a while agoo. For certys, as at my devys,

And ofte tyme hym to solace Ther is no place in Paradys

Sir Myrthe cometh into this place, So good inne forto dwelle or be,

And eke with hym cometh his meynee, As in that gardyne, thoughte me.

That lyven in lust and jolite. For there was many a bridde syngyng

And now is Myrthe therynne to here Thorough-out the yerde al thringyng.

The briddis, how they syngen clere, In many places were nyghtyngales,

The mavys and the nyghtyngale, Alpes, fynches, and wodewales,

And other joly briddis smale. That in her swete song deliten.

And thus he walketh to solace In thilke places as they habiten,

Hym and his folk, for swetter place There myghtfe] men see many flokkes

To pleyen ynne he may not fynde, Of turtles and [of] laverokkes.

Al though he sought oon in-tyl Ynde. Chalaundres fele sawe I there,

The alther-fairest folk to see That wery, nygh forsongen were.

That in this world may founde be And thrustles, terins, and mavys,

Hath Mirthe with hym in his route, That songen forto wynne hem prys,

That folowen hym always aboute." And eke to sormounte in hir songe

, Whan Ydelnesse had tolde al this, That othere briddes hem amonge.

And I hadde herkned wel y-wys, By note made faire servyse

Thanne seide I to dame Ydelnesse : These briddes that I you devise ;

" Now also wisly god me blesse, They songe her songe as faire and wele

Sith Myrthe that is so faire and fre As angels don espirituel.

Is in this yerde with his meyne, And, trusteth wel, than I hem herde,

Fro thilk assemble, if I may, Ful lustily and wel I ferde,

Shal no man werne me to-day, For never yitt sich melodye

That I this nyght ne mote it see. Was herd of man that myghte dye.

For wel wene I there with hym be Sich swete song was hem amonge,

A faire and joly companye, That me thought it no briddis songe,

i Fulfilled of all curtesie." But it was wondir lyk to be

' And forth, withoute wordis mo, Song of mermaydens of the see,

In at the wiket went I tho, That, for her syngyng is so clere,

That Ydelnesse hadde opened me, Though we mermaydens clepe hem here

Q B

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

In English as is oure usaunce, These briddis syngyng on a rowe,

Men clepe hem sereyns in Fraunce. Than myght I not withholde me

Ententif vveren forto synge That I ne wente inne forto see

These briddis, that nought unkunnyng Sir Myrthe ; for my desiryng

Were of her craft and apprentys, Was hym to seen, over alle thyng ;

But of song sotil and wys. His countenaunce and his manere,

And certis, whan I herde her songe, That sighte was to me ful dere.

And sawe the grene place amonge, Tho wente I forth on my right honde

In herte I wexe so wondir gay, Doun by a lytel path I fonde,

That I was never erst er that day Of mentes full and fenell grene.

So jolyf, nor so wel bigoo, And faste by, withoute wene,

Ne merye in herte, as I was thoo. Sir Myrthe I fonde, and right anoon

And than wist I and sawe ful well, Unto sir Myrthe gan I goon,

That Ydelnesse me served well, There as he was, hym to solace.

That me putte in sich jolite. And with hym in that lusty place

Hir freend wel ought I forto be So faire folk and so fresh had he,

Sith she the dore of that gardyne That whan I sawe I wondred me

Hadde opened, and me leten inne. Fro whennes siche folk myght come,

Fromhennesforthhowthatlwroughte, So faire they weren all and some,

I shal you tellen as me thoughte. For they were lyk, as to my sighte,

First wherof Myrthe served there, To angels that ben fethered brighte.
And eke whatfolkthere with hym were,

Withoute fable I wole discryve; This folk, of which I telle you soo,

And of that gardyne eke as blyve Upon a karole wenten thoo.

I wole you tellen aftir this A lady karolede hem, that hyght

The faire fasoun all y-wys, GLADNESSE, [the] blisfull and the light.

That wel y-wrought was for the nones. Wel coude she synge and lustyly ;

I may not telle you all at ones, Noon half so wel and semely,

But as I may and can, I shall Couthe make in song sich refreynynge..

By ordre tellen you it all. It sat hir wondir wel to synge ;

Ful faire servise, and eke ful swete, Hir voice ful clere was and ful swete,

These briddis maden, as they sete ; She was nought rude ne unmete,

Layes of love ful wel sownyng, But couthe ynow of sich doyng

They songen in their jargonyng ; As longeth unto karolyng.

Summe high and summeeke lowe songe For she was wont in every place

Upon the braunches grene y-spronge. To syngen first, folk to solace,

The swetnesse of her melodye For syngyng moost she gaf hir to>

Made al myn herte in reverye. No craft had she so leef to do.

And whan that I hadde herde, I trowe, Tho myghtist thou karoles sene,

THE DAUNCE

as is oure usaun

Wei
But

j ri he/tc
Thar I i

Ne men
Andth*
That \ *

"T*J.

THE ROM A i >F THE ROSE

cse bn

Than myght I rw*
That I ne w<
«£ Sir Myrfhe

rr.<

onge.

t*
re,

honde

t anoon

;.ce.

Firw v- i»c served there,

Andekfub. ore with hym were

Without* iible I wr4e discryve;

And of that garciyne eke as blyve

I wole you tellen aftir this

The faire fasoun all v-wy^

That wel y-wrought was for the nones.

I may not telle you all at ones,

But as I may and can, I shall

By ordrc teUen you it all.

Ful faire servisc, and eke ful swetc.

These bnddis maden. as they setc ;

Laycs of love ful wel sownyng,

They songcn in their jargonyng;

mchighandsummeekelowe^*JA(F,3HTe was wont -m e;.cry pkce
Upon the braunches grene y-spronge. To syngen first, folk to solace,
The swetnessc of her melodye For syngyng mo.^t she g*f feir to,

j^ade al myn hcrtc in revcrye. No craft had >h;

And whan that I haddc herde, I trowc, Tho myghtist ti

Far fhcy were lyk~ as te,

To angels that Iwrn righte.

Th is fol k , of w h i c h ' •• ^o,

Upon a karole wentei;

A lady karolcde hen*

GLADNE^SE, [the] Mi- slight

Wel coude she syng<. Iv ;

Noon half so wel ami

Couthe make in song *)rnge

It lat nir wondir wei v>

voice ful clere was ?. swete,

She was nought rude ne unmcte
But couthc ynovr of ssoh cb
As loneeth unto karolvn*?.

... , . _ _ _.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And folk daunce and mery bene,
And make many a faire tournyng
Upon the grene gras springyng.
There myghtistthouseetheseflowtours,
Mynstrales, and eke jogelours,
That wel to synge dide her peyne;
Somme songe songes of Loreyne,
For in Loreyn her notes bee
Full swetter than in this centre.
There was many a tymbcster,
And saillouris that I dar wel swere,
Couthe her craft ful parfitly ;
The tymbres up ful sotilly,
They caste and hente full ofte,
Upon a fynger faire and softe,
That they [ne] failide never mo.
Ful fetys damyselles two,
Ryght yonge and full of semqlyhede.
In kirtles and noon other wede

I pray to god evere falle hir faire.

Ful curteisly she callede me,

" What do ye there, Beau ser ? "quod she,

"Come [here], and if it lyke yow

To dauncen, dauncith with us now."

And I withoute tariyng

Wente into the karolyng.

I was abasshed never a dell,

But it to me liked right well

That Curtesie me cleped so,

And bad me on the daunce go.

For if I hadde durst, certeyn

I wolde have karoled right fayn,

As man that was to daunce blithe.

Thanne gan I loken ofte sithe

The shape, the bodies, and the cheres,

The countenaunce, and the maneres

Of all the folk that daunced there;

And I shal tell [you] what they were.

And faire tressed every tresse,

Hadde Myrthe doon, for his noblesse, FulfairewasMyrthe,fullongeandhigh,

Amydde the karole forto daunce. A fairer man I nevere sigh ;

But herof lieth no remembraunce As rounde as appille was his face,

How that they daunced queyntely ; Ful rody and white in every place.

That oon wolde come all pry vyly Fetys he was and wel beseye,

Agayn that other, and whan they were With metely mouth and yen greye,

To-gidre almost, they threwe yfere His nose by mesure wrought ful right.

Her mouthis so that through her play Crispe was his heer, and eek ful bright,

It semed as they kiste alway.

Hise shuldris of a large brede,

To dauncen well koude they the gise, And smalish in the girdilstede.

What shulde I more to you devyse
Ne bode I never thennes go,
Whiles that I sawe hem daunce so.

Upon the karoll wonder faste
I gan biholde, til atte laste
A lady gan me forto espie ;
And she was cleped CURTESIE
The worshipfull, the debonaire,

He semed lyke a portreiture,

So noble he was of his stature,

So faire, so joly and so fetys,

With lymes wrought at poynt devys,

Dely ver, smert, and of grete myght ;

Ne sawe thou nevere man so lyght.

Of berde unnethe hadde he no thyng,

For it was in the firste spryng.

Ful yonge he was,and mery of thought ;

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

And in samette with briddis wrought, And in an overgilt samit

And with gold beten ful fetysly, Cladde she was, by grete delit,

His body was clad ful richely. Of which hir leef a robe werede ;

Wrought was his robe in straunge gise The myrier she in hir herte ferede.
And al to-slytered for queyntise

In many a place lowe and hie ; And next hir wente, in hir other side,

And shode he was with grete maistrie, The GOD OF LOVE, that can devyde

With shoon decoped and with laas- Love, and as hym likith it be,

By druery and by solas^xU faJZOQj But he can cherles daunten, he,

His leef a rosyn chapelet And maken folkis pride fallen,

Haddemade and on his heed it set. And he can wel these lordis thrallen,

And ladyes putt at lowe degre,

And wite ye who was his leef ? Whan he may hem to proude see.

Dame Gladnesse there was hym so leef, This God of Love of his fasoun

That syngith so wel with glad courage, Was lyke no knave, ne quystroun.

That from she was .XII. yeer of age, His beaute gretly was to preyse,

She of hir love graunt hym made. But of his robe to devise

Sir Mirthe hir by the fynger hadde I drede encombred forto be ;

Daunsyng, and she hym also ; For nought y-clad in silk was he,

Grete love was atwixe hem two. But all in floures and in flourettes,

Bothe were they faire and bright of I-paynted all with amorettes.

hewe ; And with losenges, and scochouns,

She semede lyke a rose newe With briddes, lybardes, and lyouns,

Of colour, and hir flesh so tendre And other beestis wrought ful well,

That with a brere smale and slendre His garnement was everydell

Men myght it cleve, I dar wel seyn ; Y-portreied, and wrought with floures,

Hir forheed frounceles, al pleyn ; By dyvers medlyng of coloures.

Bent were hir [browne] browis two, Floures there were of many gise,

Hir yen greye and glad also, Y-sett by compas in assise ;

That laugheden ay in hir semblaunt Ther lakkide no flour to my dome,

First or the mouth, by covenaunt. Ne nought so mych as flour of brome,

I not what of hir nose descryve, Ne violete, ne eke pervynke,

So faire hath no womman alyve. Ne flour noon that man can on thynke;

Hirheerwasyelowe,andclereshynyng, And many a rose-leef ful longe,

I wot no lady so likyng. Was entermelled ther amonge,

Of orfrays fresh was hir gerland ; And also on his heed was sette

I, which seyen have a thousand, Of roses reed a chapelett.

Saugh never y-wys no gerlond yitt, But nyghtyngales, a full grete route

So wel y-wrought of silk as it. That flyen over his heed aboute,

MYNSTRALES

Claddc she was, by
which hir ieet a
• ^}\^ i (j h .

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSfc
And in samettc with briddis wrought, And in an ovcrgii
And with gold bcten ful fetysly,
His body was clad ful richely.
Wrought was his robe in straum:
And al tewrtvu'f.! •••••
In many a place lowe and hie ;
And shodclic was with grctc ma.
With shoRn decoped an
By druery and by solav
>*yn chaj

_
HadcIcTnadc and on his heed it H

And wite ye who was- his leef?
Dame Gladncsst there was hym sr> leef,
That syngith so wd with glad courage,
That from *hc was .XII. veer of a^c.
She of hir love graunt hym made.
Sir Mirthe hir bv ihc fynger hadde
Daunsyng, and she hvtn also ;
Gretc love was atwixr'hern two
Bothe were they faire nnd bright of

hcwe ;

She semcdc lyke a rose oewe
Of colour, and hir flrsh ^>ten<irt
That with a brerc smalt and siendre
Men myght it cicve, i dar wel sryn ;
Hir forheed frouncclcj>> al pleyn ;
Bent were hir [brownel browia two,
Hir yen greye and glad also,
That laugheden ay in hir semblaunt
First or the mouth, by covenaunt.
I not what of hir nose descry
So faire hath no womman alyvc.
Hi '

«>) ,rf ^ r>e«h ,v
I. whrch Meyen have a

h !>cver y-wys no gerlond yitt,

;s ir

A nd next hir wente, in hir other side.
The GOD OF LOVE, that can devyde
Love, and as hym likuh it be,
But he can chcrlcs dauntcn, he,
And maken folk* on,

And he can wel these lord is thrallen,
And ladyes putt at lowe degre,
Whan he may hem to proude see.
This God of Love of his fasoun
Was lyke no knave, ne qu n.

His beautc gretly was to .
But of his robe to devise
1 dredc encombred forto •
Far nought y-clad in silk was he,
But all in Houres and in flourettes,
I-payrued all with amorettes.
And with iosenges, and scochouns,
With bndde*., Ivbardes, and Ivouns,
And other beestis wrought ful well,
.- every del I

Y-portreied, and wrought with
By dyvers rnedlyng of coloures.
Floures there were of many gise,
Y-sett by compas in assise ;
Ther lakkide no flour to my dome,
Ne nought so mych as rlour of brome,
Ne violete, ne eke pervynke,
Ne flour noon that man cun on thynke;
etowe.andclereshynyng, And many a rosc-lecf ful longe,

;is entermelicd ther amonge,
also on his heed was sette
roses reed a chapeleu
But nyghtyngales, a full grctc route
That flyen over his heed aboute,
12

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The leeves felden as they flyen ; Out-take the fetheres and the tree.

And he was all with briddes wryen, The swiftest of these arowis fyve

With popynjay, with nyghtyngale, Out of a bowe forto dryve,

With chalaundre, and with wodewale, And beste fethered for to flee,

With fynche, with lark, and with arch- And fairest eke, was clepid Beaute ;

aungell. That other arowe that hurteth lesse

He semede as he were an aungell, Was clepid, as I trowe, Symplesse ;

Thatdoun were comenfro hevene clerc. The thridde cleped was Fraunchise

That fethred was in noble wise,

Love hadd with hym a bachelere, With valour and with curtesye;

That he made alleweyes with hym be; The fourthe was cleped Compaignye,

SWETE LOKYNG cleped was he. That hevy forto shoten ys ;

This bachelere stode biholdyng But who so shetith right y-wys,

The daunce ; and in his honde holdyng May therwithdoongreteharmeandwo.

Turke bowes two had he. The fifte of these, and laste also,

That oon of hem was of a tree Faire-Semblaunt men that arowe calle,

That bereth a fruyt of savour wykke, The leeste grevous of hem alle,

Ful crokid was that foule stikke ; Yit can it make a ful grete wounde.

And knotty here and there also, But he may hope his soris sounde,

And blak as bery, or ony slo. That hurt is with that arowe y-wys ;

That other bowe was of a plante His wo the bette bistowed is,

Withouten wem, I dar warante, For he may sonner have gladnesse ;

Ful evene, and by proporcioun His langour oughte be the lesse.

Treitys and long, of good fasoun ; Five arowis were of other gise,

And it was peynted wel and thwyten, That ben ful foule to devyse,

And over al diapred and writen For shaft and ende, soth forto telle,

With ladyes and with bacheleris, Were also blak as fende in helle.

Full lyghtsom and glad of cheris. The first of hem is called Pride,

These bowes two helde Swete-lokyng, That other arowe next hym biside,

That semede lyk no gadelyng, It was [y-] cleped Vylanye.

And ten brode arowis hilde he there, That arowe was al with felonye

Of which .V. in his righthond were ; Envenymed, and with spitous blame.

But they were shaven well and dight, The thridde of hem was cleped Shame,

Nokked and fethered aright, The fourthe Wanhope cleped is,

And all they were with gold bygoon, The fifte Newe-thought, y-wys.

And strong^ poynted everychoon, These arowis that I speke of heere

And sharpe forto kerven well. Were alle fyve on oon maneere,

But iren was ther noon, ne steell, And alle were they resemblable.

For al was golde, men myght it see, To hem was wel sittyng and able,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The foule croked bowe hidous
That knotty was, and al roynous ;
That bowe semede wel to shete
These arowis fyve, that ben unmete
And contrarye to that other fyve.
But though I telle not as blyve
Of her power, ne of her myght,
Herafter shal I tellen right
The soothe, and eke signyfiaunce ;
As fer as I have remembraunce
All shal be seid, I undirtake,
Er of this book an ende I make

Now come I to my tale ageyn.
But aldirfirst I wole you seyn
The fasoun and the countenaunces
Of all the folk that on the daunce is.
The God of Love, jolyf and lyght,
Ladde on his honde a lady bright,
Of high prys and of grete degre;
This lady called was Beaute,
As an arowe of which I tolde,
Ful wel [y-]thewed was she holde;
Ne she was derk, ne broun, but bright,
And clere as [is] the mone lyght,
Ageyn whom all the sterres semen

A ful grete savour and a swote
Me toucheth in myn herte rote,
As helpe me god, whan I remembre
Of the fasoun of every membre.
In world is noon so faire a wight ;
For yonge she was, and hewed bright,
Sore plesaunt, and fetys with all,
Gente, and in hir myddill small.
Biside Beaute yede richesse,
An high lady of gret noblesse,
And gret of prys in every place ;
But who so durste to hir trespace,
Or til hir folk, in word or dede,
He were full hardy, out of drede.
For bothe she helpe and hyndre may ;
And that is nought of yisterday,
That riche folk have full gret myght
To helpe, and eke to greve a wyght.
The leste and grettest of valour
Diden Rychesse ful gret honour,
And besy weren hir to serve,
For that they wolde hir love deserve.
They cleped hir " Lady," grete and small ;
This wide world hir dredith all,
This world is all in hir daungere.
Hir court hath many a losengere,
And many a traytour envyous,

But smale candels, as we demen.

Hir flesh was tendre as dewe of flour, That ben ful besy and curyous

Hir chere was symple as byrde in bour, Forto dispreisen and to blame

As whyte as lylye or rose in rys ;
Hir face gentyl and tretys,
Fetys she was, and smale to se ;
No wyntred browis hadde she,

That best deserven love and name.
Bifore the folk, hem to bigilen,
These losengeris hem prey se, and smylen,
Andthusthe world with wordanoynten;

Ne popped hir, for it neded nought And aftirward they prille, and poynten
To wyndre hir, or to pcynte hir ought. The folk right to the bare boon,
Hir tresses yelowe, and longestraughten, Bihynde her bak whan they ben goon
Unto hir helys doun they raughten ; And foule abate the folkis prys.
Hir nose, hir mouth, and eyhe, and cheke Ful many a worthy man, y-wys
Wel wrought, and all the remenaunt eke. An hundrid, have do to dye

THE GOD OF LOVE

;;ed bowe htdou*

and aj > »

That b
These i

And cc to that

But th telie not a:

Of her neofhermygK

Herat f teile

The sooth h and rk'- uncc ,

As fer as il /have re;
All shal be seid, I undmtke,
Er of thu book an cndc I make

Now con x ! ; ••• \ - n.

But aldirnm I wole you seyn
1 he fagotti it countenaunces

Of all ti-. -hat on the daunce is.

The God of Love, jolyf and lyght,
Kidde or his honde a lady \n ighr,
Ot high ]>rys and of grctc degre;
This lady called was Bcaute,
As an aroA'c of which I tolde,
Ful wel [Mthewed was she holde;
Ne ihc w^s derk, ne broun, but bright,
And clerl as [is] the monc lyght,
Ageyn **ham all the sterres'semen
But smsk candels, as we demen.
Hir rles i was tcndre as dewe of flour,
Hir che re was symple as byrdc in bour,
As why K- as lylye or rose in rys;
.ind tretys,
,

avoj

• »te

''•» <

membre
.-inbre.
a wight ;

'ved bright,
-ith all,

; e,

place;

But w- trespace,

Or til hir folk, in r dede,

He were 'rede.

For bothe she hd udre may ;

And that is nought of yisterday,
That richr folk bav; , et myght

To hclpc, and < kc to greve a wyght.
•rst^ ;* valour

•on our,

And bcsy wcrcn hir to serve,
For that they wolde hir love deserve.
They clepedhnr" La*' id small

This wide wc.rld hir dredith all,
This world i« all in hir daungcre.
Hir i ourt hath many a losengere,
And manv a tray: us,

That ben t as

Forto dispr< isen -ie

Hiat .ame.

anoyntefl
>o
n,
n goon.

3HT

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

These losengers thorough flaterye ;
And make folk ful straunge be
There hem oughte be pryve.
Wei yvel mote they thryve and thee,
And yvel arryved mote they be,
These losengers ful of envye ;
No good man loveth her companye.
Richesse a robe of purpur on hadde,
Ne trowe not that I lye or madde,
For in this world is noon hir lyche,
Ne by a thousand deel so riche,
Ne noon so faire ; for it ful well
With orfrays leyd was everydeell
And portraied in the ribanynges
Of dukes storyes, and of kynges,
And with a bend of gold tasseled,
And knoppis fyne of gold ameled.
Aboute hir nekke of gentyl entayle
Was shetc the riche chevesaile,
In which ther was ful gret plente
Of stones clere and bright to see.
Rychesse a girdell hadde upon,
The bokele of it was of a stoon,
Of vertu gret and mochel of myght ;
For who so bare the stoon so bright,
Of venym durst hym no thing doute,
While he the stoon hadde hym aboute.
That stoon was gretly forto love,

That fastyng myght that stoon [have]

scene.

The barres were of gold ful fyne
Upon a tyssu of satyne,
Full hevy, gret, and no thyng lyght,
In everiche was a besaunt-wight.
Upon the tresses of Richesse
Was sette a cercle, for noblesse,
Of brend gold that full lyghte shoon,
So faire trowe I was never noon.
But she were kunnyng for the nonys,
That koude devyse alle the stonys,
That in that cercle shewen clere.
It is a wondir thing to here,
For no man koude preyse or gesse
Of hem the valewe or richesse.
Rubyes there were,saphires,jagounces>
And emeraudes more than two ounces.
But all byfore ful sotilly
A fyn charboncle sette saugh I ;
The stoon so clere was and so bright,
That also soone as it was nyght,
Men myght [e] seen to go for nede
A myle or two in lengthe and brede.
Sich lyght sprang oute of the stone,
That Richesse wondir brighte shone>
Bothe hir heed and all hir face,
And eke aboute hir al the place.

And, tyl a riche mannys byhove,

Worth all the gold in Rome and Frise. Dame Richesse on hir honde gan lede

The mourdaunt wrought in noble

wise

Was of a stoon full precious,
That was so fyne and vertuous
That hole a man it koude make
Of palasie, and [of] tothe ake.
And yit the stoon hadde such a grace
That he was siker in every place,
All thilke day not blynde to bene,

A yong man full of semelyhede,
That she best loved of ony thing.
His lust was mych in housholding,
In clothyng was he ful fetys,
And loved to have well hors of prys;
He wende to have reproved be
Of theft or moordre, if that he
Hadde in his stable ony hakeney.
And therfore he desired ay

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

To be aqueynted with Richesse,
For all his purpos, as I gesse,
Was forto make gret dispense
Withoute wernyng or diffense ;
And Richesse myght it wel sustenc
And hir dispence well mayntene,
And hym alwey sich plente sende
Of gold and silver forto spende
Withoute lakking or daunger,
As it were poured in a garner.

And after on the daunce wente

LARGESSE, that sette al hir entente

Forto be honourable and free.

Of Alexandres kyn was she ;

Hir moste joye was y-wys

Whan that she yaf, and seide, "Have

this."

Not Avarice, the foule caytyf,
Was half to gripe so ententyf,
As Largesse is to yeve and spende ;
And god ynough alwey hir sende,
So that the more she yaf awey
The more y-wys she hadde alwey.
Gret loos hath Largesse and gret pris,
For bothe wyse folk and unwys
Were hooly to hir baundon brought,
So wel with yiftes hath she wrought.
And if she hadde an enemy,
I trowe that she coude tristely

May wynne gret lordship or londe ;
For freendis all to fewe hath he
To doon his will perfourmed be.
And who so wole have freendis heere,
He may not holde his tresour deere.
For by ensample I telle this,
Right as an adamaund y-wys
Can drawen to hym sotylly
The yren that is leid therby,
So drawith folkes hertis y-wis
Silver and gold that yeven is.
Largesse hadde on a robe fresh
Of riche purpur Sarsynesh.
Wel fourmed was hir face and cleere,
And opened hadde she hir colere ;
For she right there hadde in present
Unto a lady maad present
Of a gold broche, ful wel wrought.
And certys it myssatte hir nought,
For thorough hir smokke wrought with

silk

The flesh was seen as white as mylk.
Largesse, that worthy was and wys,
Hilde by the honde a knyght of prys,
Was sibbe to Artour of Britaigne,
And that was he that bare the ensaigne
Of worship, and the gounfanoun.
And yit he is of sich renoun
That men of hym seye faire thynges
Byfore barouns, erles, and kynges.

Make hym full soone hir freend to be, This knyght was comen all newly

Fro [a] tourneiyng faste by.

So large of yift and free was she.
Thcrforc she stode in love and grace
Of riche and pover in every place.
A full gret fool is he y-wys
That bothe riche and nygart is;
A lord may have no maner vice
That greveth more than avarice ;

For nygart never with strengthe of honde Arayed in full noble gyse.

Ther hadde he don gret chyvalrie
Through his vertu and his maistrie,
And for the love of his lemman
He caste doun many a doughty man.
AndnexthymdaunceddameFRAUNCHis

YDELNESSE

THE ROM AUNT OF TH

To be aqucyntcd with Richesse,
For all his purpot, at I gcsse,
Was forto make gret dispense
Withoute wernyng or diffense ;
And Richesse myght it wel sustcnc
And hir dispence well mayntcne,
And hym alwey sich plente scnde
Of gold and silver forto spendc
Withoute lakking or daungcr,
As it were poured in a garner.

And after on the daunce wente

LARGESSE, that sette al hir entente

Forto be honourable and free.

Of Alexandres kyn was she ;

Hir moste joye was y-wys

Whan that she yaf, and seide, "Have

this."

Not Avarice, the foule caytyf,
Was half to gripe so ententyf,
As Largesse is to yeve and spende ;
And god ynough alwey hir sende,
So that the more she yaf awcy
The more y-wys she hadde alwey.
Gret loos hath Largesse and gret pris,
For bothc wyse folk and unwys
Were hooly to hir baundon brought,
So wel with yiftes hath she wrought.
And if she haddc an enemy,
I trowe that she coude tristely

Ma ionde;

For'freendi. A? He

To door* K»? ted be.

And who so wolr <:<r«ndis heere,

He may not hold? his tresour deere.
For by ensampU-.
Right as an adam*un<i y-wys
drawer*. t< lly

by,

• w *

rtis y-wi«
•.t ycvc.''

Largest i a robe fresh

Of nche purpur Sarsyne^
Wel rburmcd was hir face and cleere,
And opened hadde she hir colcre;
For she right there hadde in present
Unto a lady maad present
Of a gold broche, nil wel wrought.
And certys it myssatte hir nought,
For thorough hir smokke wrought wi«

silk

The flesh was seen as white as mylk.
Largesse, that worthy was and wys,

vie by the honde a knyght of prysJ
Was sibbe to Artour of Britaigne,
And that was he that bare the ensaigJi
Of worship, and the gounfanoun.
And yit he is of sich renoun
That men of hym scye fa ire thynges I
By fore barouns, erles, and kynges.

Make hym full soone hir freend to be, This knyght was comen all newly
So large of yift and free was she. Fro [a] tourneiyng fastc by.

Therfore sht stodc in love and grace
Of riLhc and pover in every place.
A full gret fool is he y-wys
That bothe riche and nygart is;
A lord may have no maner vice
That greveth more than avarice ;

For nygart never withttrfT^the of honde Arayed in full noblr

e he ^Qn ^ret c.hyvalrie
. .
rougn his vertu and his maistrie,

And for the love of his iemman

He caste doun many a doughty man Jl

And next hym daunccd ftame FRAUNOl

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

She was not broune ne dunne of hewe, And next that daunced CURTESYE,

But white as snowe y-fallen newe. That preised was of lowe and hye,

Hir nose was wrought at poynt devys, For neither proude ne foole was she.

For it was gentyl and tretys, She forto daunce called me,

With eyen gladde and browes bente, I pray god yeve hir right good grace. !|

Hir here doun to hir helis wente ; Whanne I come first into the place,

And she was symple as dowve on tree. She was not nyce ne outrageous,

Ful debonaire of herte was she ;
She durst neither seyn ne do
But that that hir longed to.
And if a man were in distresse,
And for hir love in hevynesse
Hir herte wolde have full gret pite,
She was so amiable and free.
For were a man for hir

But wys and ware and vertuous;
Of faire speche and of faire answere,
Was never wight mysseid of here,
Ne she bar rancour to no wight.
Clere broune she was and therto bright
Of face, of body avenaunt ;
I wot no lady so plesaunt.
She were worthy forto bene

She wolde ben right sore adradde An emperesse or crowned quene.

That she dide over gret outrage ;

But she hym holpe his harme to aswage, And by hir wente a knyght dauncyng,

Hir thought it ell a vylanye.
And she hadde on a sukkenye
That not of hempe ne heerdis was ;
So fair was noon in all Arras.
Lord, it was ridled fetysly !
Ther nas nat a poynt trewely
That it nas in his right assise.
Full wel y-clothed was Fraunchise,
For ther is no cloth sittith bet
On damysell than doth roket ;
A womman wel more fetys is
In roket than in cote y-wis.
The whyte roket, rydled faire,
Bitokeneth that full debonaire
And swete was she that it bere.

Bi hir daunced a bachelere ;
I can not telle you what he hight,
But faire he was and of good hight,
All hadde he be, I sey no more,
The lordis sone of Wyndesore.

That worthy was and wel spekyng,
And ful wel koude he don honour.
The knyght was faire and styf in stour,
And in armure a semely man,
And welbiloved of his lemman.

Faire IDILNESSE thanne saugh I,
That alwey was me faste by ;
Of hir have I withoute fayle
Told yow the shap and apparayle.
For, as I seide, loo that was she
That dide to me so gret bounte,
That she the gate of the gardyn
Undide and lete me passen in.

And after daunced, as I gesse,
YOUTHE fulfilled of lustynesse,
That nas not yit XII yeer of age,
With herte wylde and thought volage.
Nyce she was, but she ne mente
Noon harme ne slight in hir entente,
17 c

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

But oonly lust andjolyte;
For yonge folk wele witen ye
Have lytel thought but on her play.
Hir lemman was biside alway
In sich a gise that he hir kyste
At alle tymes that hym lyste ;
That all the daunce myght it see,
They make no force of pry vete ;
For who spake of hem yvel or well,
They were ashamed neveradell,
But men myght seen hem kisse there,
As it two yonge dowves were.
For yong was thilke bachelere,
Of beaute wot I noon his pere,
And he was right of sich an age
As Youthe his leef, and sich corage.

For ther nys so good paradys
As to have a love at his devys.
Oute of that place wente I thoo,
And in that gardyn gan I goo,
Pleyyng alonge full meryly.
The God of Love full hastely
Unto hym Swete-Lokyng clepte.
No lenger wolde he that he kepte
His bowe of gold, that shoon so bright ;
He bad hym bend it anoon ryght.
And he full soone sette an-ende,
And at a braid he gan it bende ;
And toke hym of his arowes fyve,
Full sharp and redy forto dryve.

Now god that sittith in mageste,
Fro deedly woundes he kepe me,
If so be that he hadde me shette !
For if I with his arowe mette,
It hadde me greved sore y-wys.
But I, that no thyng wist of this,
Wente up and doun full many awey,
And he me folwed faste alwey ;
But no where wolde I reste me,

The lusty folk that daunced there,

And also other that with hem were,

That weren all of her meyne,

Ful hende folk and wys and free

And folk of faire port trewely

They weren alle comunly.

Whannelhaddeseenthecountenaunces

Of hem that ladden thus these daunces, Till I hadde in all the gardyn be.

Thanne hadde I will to gon and see

The gardyne that so lyked me,

And loken on these faire loreres,

On pyntrees, cedres, and olmeris.

The daunces thanne y-ended were,

For many of hem that daunced there

Were with her loves went awey,

Undir the trees to have her pley.

A lord , they lyved lustyly !

A gret fool were he sikirly

That nolde his thankes such lyf lede.

For this dar I seyn oute of drede,
That who so myghte so wel fare,
For better lyf durst hym not care ;

The gardyn was by mesuryng

Right evene and square ; in compassing

It was as long as it was large.

Of fruyt hadde every tree his charge,

But it were any hidous tree,

Of which ther were two or three.

There were, and that wote I full well,

Of pome garnettys a full gret dell,

That is a fruyt full well to lyke,

Namely to folk whanne they ben sike.

And trees there were of gret foisoun

That baren nottes in her sesoun

Such as men note mygges calle,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

"hat swote of savour ben withalle; Lest [it] the tender grasses shende.

i.nd almanderes gret plente, There myght men does and roes y-se,

'yges, and many a date tree, And of squyrels ful great plente

"here wexen, if men hadde nede, From bowe to bowe alwaye lepynge ;

"horoughthegardyninlengthandbrede. Connes there were also plaiynge,
"her was eke wexyng many a spice, That comyn out of her clapers,

As clowe-gelofre, and lycorice,

Gyngevre, and greyn de Paradys,

Canell, and setewale of prys,

And many a spice delitable

To eten whan men rise fro table.

Of sondrie colours and maners,
And maden many a tourneiyng
Upon the fresshe grasse spryngyng.

And many homly trees ther were

In places sawe I welles there
. In whiche there no frogges were,

That peches, coynes, and apples beere, And fayre in shadowe was every welle.
Medlers, plowmes, perys, chesteynis, But I ne can the nombre telle
Cherys, of which many oon fayne is, Of stremys smal, that by devyse

Notes, aleys, and bolas,

That forto seen it was solas ;

With many high lorer and pyn

Was renged clene all that gardyn,

With cipres and with olyveris,

Of which that nygh no plente heere is. And by the stremes over al elles

There were elmes grete and stronge, Sprange up the grasse, as thicke y-set

Maples, asshe, oke, aspe, planes longe, And softe as any veluet,

My rthe had done come through condy se ;
Of whiche the water in rennyng
Gan make a noyse ful lykyng.

About the brinkes of these welles

Fyne ew, popler, and lyndes faire,
And othere trees full many a payre —
What shulde I tel you more of it?
There were so many trees yit,
That I shulde al encombred be
Er I had rekened every tree.

These trees were sette, that I devyse,
One from another in assyse
Fyve fadome or sixe, I trowe so ;
But they were hye and great also,
And for to kepe out wel the sonne,
The croppes were so thicke y-ronne,

On whiche men myght his lemman ley
As on a fetherbed to pley,
For the erthe was ful softe and swete.
Through moisture of the welle wete
Spronge up the sote grene gras
As fayre, as thicke, as myster was.
But moche amended it the place
That therthe was of suche a grace
That it of floures hath plente,
That bothe in somer and wynter be.
There sprange the vyolet al newe,
And fresshe pervynke riche of hewe,
And floures yelowe, white, and rede,

And every braunche in other knette, Suche plente grewe there never in mede.

And ful of grene leves sette,

Ful gayewas al thegrounde,andqueynt

That sonne myght there none discende, And poudred, as men had it peynt

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

With manyafresshe and sondrie floure, And dyd him so to wepe and playne,

J *—-.« ^ < * , 1 • i /**/"*

That casten up ful good savour.

I wol nat longe holde you in fable
Of al this garden delectable,
I mote my tonge stynten nede ;
For I ne maye withouten drede
Naught tellen you the beaute al,
Ne halfe the bounte there with al.

I went on right honde and on lefte
About the place ; it was nat lefte
Tyl I had al the garden [in] bene,
In the esters that men myghte sene.
And thus while I wente in my playe
The God of Love me folowed aye,
Right as an hunter can abyde
The beest, tyl he seeth his tyde
To shoten at good messe to the dere,
Whan that hym nedeth go no nere.

And so befyl I rested me
Besydes a wel under a tree,
Whiche tree inFrauncemencalapyne ;
But sithe the tyme of kyng Pepyne,
Ne grewe there tree in mannes syght
So fayre, ne so wel woxe in hight,
In al that yarde so high was none.
And springyng in a marble stone
Had nature set, the sothe to telle,
Under that pyne tree a welle ;
And on the border al withoute
Was written in the stone aboute
Letters smal, that say den thus :
"Here starfe the fayre Narcisus."

Narcisus was a bachelere

That Love had caught in his daungere,

And in his nette gan hym so strayne,

That nede him must his lyfe forgo.
For a fayre lady that hight Echo
Him loved over any creature,
And gan for hym suche payne endure,
That on a tyme she him tolde
That, if he her loven nolde,
That her behoved nedes dye,
There laye none other remedye.

But nathelesse for his beaute
So feirs and daungerous was he
That he nolde graunte hir askyng,
For wepyng ne for faire praiyng.
And whanne she herd hym werne soo,
She hadde in herte so gret woo,
And took it in so gret dispite,
That she withoute more respite
Was deed anoon. But er she deied
Full pitously to god she preied,
That proude-hertid Narcisus,
That was in love so daungerous,
Myght on a day be hampred so
For love, and ben so hoot for woo,
That never he myght to joye atteyne,
Than he shulde feele in every veyne
What sorowe trewe lovers maken
That ben so velaynesly forsaken.
This prayer was but resonable,
Therfore god helde it ferme and stable.
For Narcisus, shortly to telle,
By aventure come to that welle,
To resten hym in that shadowing
A day whanne he come fro huntyng.
This Narcisus hadde suffred paynes
For rennyng alday in the playnes,
And was for thurst in grete distresse
Of heet, and of his werynesse
That hadde his breth almost bynomen.

LOVE PURSUING

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

y afresshe and sondrie flourc, And dyd him so to wepe and playne,

Ken up ful good savour.

I wo? nat lor.ge holde you in fable
OJ .on delectable,

I rjK-te my tonge stynten nede;
For 1 /:•.

beautc al,
Nc halfe the bounte there with al.

I went-on right honde and on lefte
About the place ; it was nat lefte
Tyl I had al the garden [in] bene,
In the esters that men myghte sene.
And thus while I wente in my playe
The God of Love me folowed aye,
Right as an hunter can abyde
The beest, tyl he seeth his tyde
To shoten at good messe to the derc,
Whan that hym nedcth go no nere.

And so befyl I rested me
Bei.ydcs a wel under a tree,
Whiche tree inFrauncemencalapyne;
But sithe the tyme of kyng Pepyne,
Ne grcwe there tree in rnannes syght
So fay re, ne so wel woxe in bight,
In a! that yarde so high was none.
And springyng in a marble stone
Had nature set, the sothe to telle,
Under that pyne tree a welle ;
And on the border al withoute
Was written in the stone aboute
Letters smal, that say den thi
**H«-rc starfc the fV

Wii a btchelcre
• L,ove had caught in his daungere,
And in his nettc gan hym so strayne,

That nede him must ;^o.

For a fayrc lady that hi.- K>

Him loved over any creature,
And gan for hym suche payne endure,
That on a tyi tolde

That, if he her loven nolde,
- hoved nedes dye,

ther remedye.

ate

anger< he

That he nolde graunte hir askyng,
For wepy -iyng-

And w v m werne soo,

She hadde oo,

And took it ii ,c,

That she v respite

Was deed ano .-t er she deied

Full pitou- he preied,

That prc-i ;s,

That was «• us,

Myght on so

For love, <, woo,

That never he- atteyne,

Than he shulcir h veyne

What sorowe naken

That ben so vel
This prayer wa*
Therfore god h<
For NardstML >
By avemurr <w
To rcstrn Jty^ i

.V 'A-Vv^o^ ;

avoj

Of ber

Thai h

en.

id stable;

lie,

wlowing
antyng,
raynes
nes,

'istresse

•wt bynom<

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE
Whanne he was to that welle y-comen, That hym bitidde such myschaunce.

That shadowid was with braunches

grene,

He thoughte of thilke water shene
Todrynke,andfresshehymwelwithalle
And doun on knees he gan to falle,

But at the laste thanne thought I
That scatheles full sykerly
I myght unto the welle goo —
Wherof shulde I abaisshen soo?
Unto the welle than went I me,

Andforthhisheedandneckeout-straught And doun I loutede forto see

To drynken of that welle a draught.
And in the water anoon was sene
His nose, his mouth, his yen shene,
And he therof was all abasshed ;
His owneshadowehadhymbytrasshed,
For well wende he the forme see
Of a child of gret beaute.
Well kouthe Love hym wreke thoo
Of daunger and of pride also,
That Narcisus somtyme hym beere.
Hequyttehym well hisguerdoun there;
For he musede so in the welle
That, shortly all the sothe to telle,
He lovede his owne shadowe soo,
That atte laste he starf for woo.
For whanne he saugh that he his wille
Myght in no maner way fulfille,
And that he was so faste caught
That he hym kouthe comforte nought,
He loste his witte right in that place,
And deyde withynne a lytel space.
And thus his warisoun he took
Fro the lady that he forsook.
Ladyes I preye ensample takith,
Ye that ageyns youre love mistakith;
For if her deth be vow to wite,

God kan ful well youre while quyte.
Whanne that this lettre of which I telle

The clere water in the stoon,

And eke the gravell which that shoon

Down in the botme as silver fyn.

For of the well this is the fyn,

In world is noon so clere of hewe.

The water is evere fresh and newe

That welmeth up with wawis bright

The mountance of two fynger hight.

Abouten it is gras spryngyng

For moiste so thikke and wel likyng,

That it ne may in wynter dye

No more than may the see be drye.

Downe at the botme sette sawe I
Two cristall stonys craftely
In thilke freshe and faire welle.
But o thing sothly dar I telle
That ye wole holde a gret mervayle
Whanne it is tolde, withouten fayle.
For whanne the sonne clere in sight
Cast in that welle his bemys bright,
And that the heete descendid is,
Thanne taketh the cristall stoon y-wis
Agayn the sonne an hundrid hewis,
Blewe, yelowe, and rede that fresh and

newe is.

Yitt hath the merveilous cristall
Such strengthe, that the place overall,

Hadde taught me that it was the welle Bothe flour, and tree, and leves grene,
Of Narcisus in his beaute, And all the yerde in it is scene.

I gan anoon withdrawe me, And forto don you to undirstonde,

Whanne it felle in my remembraunce To make ensample wole I fonde.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Ryght as a myrrour openly
Shewith alle thing that stont therby,
As well the colour as the figure,
Withouten ony coverture ;
Right so the cristall stoon shynyng,
Withouten ony disseyvyng,
The estrees of the yerde accusith,
To hym that in the water musith.
For evere in which half that ye be
Ye may well half the gardyne se ;
And if he turne, he may right well
Sene the remenaunt everydell.
For ther is noon so litil thyng
So hidde ne closid with shittyng,
That it ne is sene as though it were
Peyntid in the cristall there.
This is the mirrour perilous,
In which the proude Narcisus
Sawe all his face faire and bright ;
That made hym swithe to lie upright.
For who so loketh in that mirrour,
Ther may no thyng ben his socour,
That he ne shall there sene some thyng
That shal hym lede into lovyng.
Full many worthy man hath it
Y-blent, for folk of grettist wit
Ben soone caught heere and awayted ;
Withouten respite ben they baited.
Heere comth to folk of newe rage,
Heere chaungith many wight corage ;
Heere lith no rede ne witte therto,
For Venus sone, daun Cupido,
Hath sowen there of love the seed,
That help ne lith there noon, ne rede,
So cerclith it the welle aboute.
His gynnes hath he sett withoute,
Ryght forto cacche in his panters
These damoysels and bachelers.
Love will noon other bridde cacche

Though he sette either nette or lacche.
And for the seed that heere was sowen
This welle is clepid, as well is knowen,
The Welle of Love of verray right,
Of which ther hath ful many a wight
Spoke in bookis dyversely.
But they shull never so verily
Descripcioun of the welle heere,
Ne eke the sothe of this matere,
As ye shull, whanne I have undo
The craft that hir bilongith to.

Allway me liked forto dwelle
To sene the cristall in the welle,
That shewide me full openly
A thousand thinges faste by.
But I may say in sory houre
Stode I to loken or to poure,
For sithen [have] I sore siked ;
That mirrour hath me now entriked.
But hadde I first knowen in my wit
The vertue and [the] strengthe of it,
I nolde not have mused there ;
Me had bette bene ellis where,
For in the snare I fell anoon
That hath bitresshed many oon.
In thilke mirrour sawe I tho,
Among a thousand thinges mo,
A roser chargid full of rosis,
That with an hegge aboute enclos is,
Tho had I sich lust and envie,
That for Parys, ne for Pavie,
Nolde I have left to goon and see
There grettist hepe of roses be.
Whanne I was with this rage hent,
That caught hath many a man and shent
Toward the roser gan I go.
And whanne I was not fer therfro,
The savour of the roses swote

THE BOTHOUN

Ryg

She-

As-
Wi

The to

Fo-

Ye e gardyne se ;

Ar /•> c ;ruy right well

Se Ah* »-ei/»e«ia- ydell.

F'/thct r%"£

F ne closid with shittyng,

r ;t nc is sene as though it were
Peyntid in the cristall there.
This is the mirrour perilous,
In which the proude Narcisus
Sawe all his face fairc and bright ;
That made hym swithe to lie upright.
For who so lokcth in that mirrour,

r may no thyng ben his socour,
it he ne shall there sene some thyng
Thai &h*J hyrn Icde into lovyng.

many worthy man hath it
\ -blent, for folk of grettist wit
Ben soone caught heere and aw;
Withoutcn respite ben they I
Heere comth to folk of newe rage,
Heere chaungith manv wight corage ;

• Cupido,
iove the seed,
Thai : : ere noon, ne rede,

:h he sett wtthoute,
cchc in his pantcrs

•iddc ca<

che.
wen
no wen,
•ight,

wight
ly.

never so verily
•f the welle heere,
Ne eke the sothe of this matere,
As ye shull, whanne I have undo
The craft that hir bilong'ith to.

Allway me liked forto dwelle
To sene the cristall in the welle,
That shewide me
A thousand thing
But I may say in sory ho;
Stode I to loken o ;re,

For sithen [have] 1 s> 1 ;

That mirrour hath me now entriked,
But hadde I first k in my wit

The vcrtue an«l rrengthe of it,

In- c ;

here,

n the snare 1 ,

That hath bitresshed many oon.
In thilke mirr<< I tho,

Among a thousand thinges mo,
A roser chargid full of ro

-j aboutt enclc
ie,

and see

There be.

an«c I wa.s with this rage hent,

^TJQHT llftny l! r^-J»and^

^Og 3HT

And wh*rm« I w»« riot ter therfro,
The «vtmr • v->te

Ryg

She-

As-.

Rigl

Fo*

Ye e gardyne se ;

Ar f\ right well

Se /tk* ttowrtunt 11.

F'/ rher .*& iK %» j»o ng

F ••-...

r ii nt js sene as though it were
Pcyntid in the cristall there.
This is the mirrour perilous,
In which the proude Narcisus
Sawc all his face fairc and bright ;
That made hym swithe to lie upright.
For who so loketh in that mirrour,

r may no thyng ben his socour,
That he ne shall there sene some thyng
Thai sh*l hym Icde into lovyng.

many worthy man hath it
Y -blent, for folk of grettist wit
Ben soone caught heere and aw;
Withouten respite ben they
Heere comth to folk of newe rage,
Heere chaungith manv wight corage ;

te the
e, daun Cupido,

h so* < of love the seed,

Thai n there noon, ne rede,

mes hath he sett withoute,
forto cacchc in his pan tors

cic cacchc

che.
wen
no wen,
-ight,

wight

.-vis dyversely.
never so verily
>f the welle heere,
Ne eke the sothe of this matere,
As ye shull, whanne I have u
The craft that hir bilong'ith

Allway me liked forto dwelle

To sene the cristall in the welle,

That shewide me rily

A thousand thing-

But I may say in soiv honre

Stode I to loken o; TC,

For si then [have] d ;

That mirrour hatl; w entriked.

But hadde I first k in my wit

The vertu« ngtheofit,

re ;
here,
snare 1 ,

That haih bitrcsshed many oon.
in thilke mirn> e I tho,

Among a tho» mges mo,

A roser ch; ;11 of ro

That with an heggc a nclos is

ie,

Nolde I and see

be.
v?ji I \va. A-ifh r hent,

3HT

••* i wac .not frer therfro,
The )e§V(/ur

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Me smote right to the herte rote,
As I hadde all embawmed be.
And if I ne hadde endouted me
To have ben hatid or assailed,
My thankis wolde I not have failed
To pulle a rose of all that route
To beren in myn honde aboute,
And smellen to it where I wente ;
But ever I dredde me to repente,
And leste it grevede or forthought
The lord that thilke gardyn wrought.
Of roses ther were grete wone,
So faire waxe never in rone.
Of knoppes clos some sawe I there,
And some wel beter woxen were ;
And some ther ben of other moysoun,
That drowe nygh to her sesoun,
And spedde hem faste forto sprede.
I love well sich roses rede,
For brode roses and open also
Ben passed in a day or two,
But knoppes wille [al] freshe be
Two daves atte leest or thre.

The knoppes gretly liked me,
For fairer may ther no man se.
Who-so myght have oon of all,
It ought hym ben full lief withall ;
Might I gerlond of hem geten,
For no richesse I wolde it leten.
Among the knoppes I chese oon
So faire, that of the remenaunt noon
No preise I half so well as it,
Whanne I avise it in my wit.
For it so well was enlumyned
With colour reed, [and] as well fyned
As nature couthe it make faire ;
And it hath leves wel foure paire,
That kynde hath sett thorough his
knowyng

Aboute the rede roses spryngyng.
The stalke was as rishe right,
And theron stode the knoppe upright,
That it ne bowide upon no side.
The swote smelle spronge so wide,
That it dide all the place aboute.
Whanne I hadde smelled the savourswote,
No will hadde I fro thens yit goo ;
Bot somdell neer it wente I thoo
To take it, but myn hond for drede
Ne dorste I to the rose bede
For thesteles sharpe of many maneeres,
Netles, thornes, and hokede breres ;
For myche they distourbled me,
That sore I dradde to harmed be.

The God of Love with bowe bent,
That all day sette hadde his talent
To pursuen and to spien me,
Was stondyng by a fige tree.
And whanne he sawe how that I
Hadde chosen so ententifly
The bothoun more unto my paie
Than ony other that I say,
He toke an arowe full sharply whette,
And in his bowe whanne it was sette,
He streight up to his ere drough
The stronge bowe, that was so tough,
And shette att me so wondir smerte,
That thorough myn ye unto myn herte
The takel smote, and depe it wente.
And therwith-all such colde me hente,
That, under clothes warme and softe,
Sithen that day I have chevered ofte.
Whanne I was hurt thus, in [a] stounde
I felle doun platte unto the grounde;
Myn herte failed and feynted ay,
And longe tymc a-swoone I lay.
But whanne I come out of swounyng,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And hadde witt and my felyng, He drowe it up withouten were,

I was all maate, and wende full well And shette at me with all his myght ;

Of bloode have loren a full gret dell. So that this arowe anoon right

But certes the arowe that in me stode Thourghout[myn]eigh,asitwasfounde.,

Of me ne drewe no drope of blode, Into myn herte hath maad a wounde.

For why I founde my wounde alldreye. Thanne I anoon dide al my crafte,

Thanne toke I with myn hondis tweie Forto drawen out the shafte ;

The arowe, and ful fast out it plight, And therwith-all I sighede efte,

And in the pullyng sore I sight ; But in myn herte the heed was lefte,

So at the last the shaft of tree Which ay encreside my desire,

I drough out with the fethers thre Unto the bothon drawe nere.

But yet the hokede heed y-wis, And evermo that me was woo,

The which that Beaute callid is, The more desir hadde I to goo

Gan so depe in myn herte pace Unto the roser, where that grewe

That I it myghte nought arace ; The freysshe bothun so bright of hewe.

But in myn herte still it stode. Betir me were to have laten be,

Al bledde I not a drope of blode. But it bihovede nede me

I was bothe anguyssous and trouble To done right as myn herte badde,

For the perill that I sawe double. For evere the body must be ladde

I nyste what to seye or do, Aftir the herte, in wele and woo ;

Ne gete a leche my woundis to ; Offeree togidre they must goo.

For neithir thorough gras ne rote But never this archer wolde feyne

Ne hadde I helpe of hope ne bote. To shete at me with all his peyne.

But to the bothoun evermo And forto make me to hym mete,

Myn herte drewe, for all my wo ; The thridde arowe he gan to shete,

My thought was in noon other thing, Whanne best his tyme he myght espie,

For hadde it ben in my kepyng, The which was named Curtesie.

It wolde have brought my lyf agayn. Into myn herte it dide avale.

For certis evenly, I dar wel seyn, A-swoone I fell bothe deed and pale,

The sight oonly and the savour Long tyme I lay and stired nought,

Alegged mych of my langour. Till I abraide out of my thought.

Thanne gan I forto drawe me And faste thanne I avysede me

Toward the bothon faire to se. To drawe out the shafte of tree ;

AndLovehaddegetehyminthisthrowe But evere the heed was left bihynde,

Another arowe into his bowe, For ought I couthe pulle or wynde.

And forto shete gan hym dresse ; So sore it stikid whanne I was hit,

The arowis name was Symplesse. That by no craft I myght it flit.

And whanne that Love gan nyghe me But anguyssous and full of thought

I felt sich woo my wounde ay wrought,
24

THE THREE ARROWS OF LOVE

THE ROMAU;

hadde witt and my felyng,
I was all maatc, and wendc full well
Of blood e h*ve larcn a full gret dell.
But < he arowe that in me stode

Of me ne drewe no drope of blode,

ve it up withoutcn were,
And shette at me \\ myght ;

So that nt

Thourghoutfmyn vasfoundi

Into myn herte hath maad a wounde.

For why I founde my wounde alldreye. Thanne I anoon dide al my crafte,
Thanncr toke I with myn hondis tweie Forto drawen out the shafte ;

The arowe, and ful fast out it plight,

And in : :ht ;

So at th's

I d rough r.i '>re

But yet the h'

The which that Beautc callic

Gan so depe in myn hertc pace

That I it myghtc . :c ;

But in myn h< ic.

Al bledde I not a drope of biodc.

1 was bothe anguyssous and trouble

For the perill that 1 sawc double.

I nyste what to seye or do,

Ne gcte a leche my woundis to ;

For neithir thon .is ne rote

Nc hadde 1 helpe of hope ne bote.

But to the bothoun evermo

Myn herte drcwe, for all my wo ;

My thought was in noon other thing,

For hadde it ben in my kepyng,

It wolde have brought my lyf agayn.

For ccrtis evenly, I dar wel seyn,

The sight oonly and the savour

Alegged mych of my langour.

Thanne gan I forto drawe me

Toward the bothon faire to se.

And therwith-all I sighede efte,
But in myn herte the heed was lefte,
Which ay encreside my desire,
Unto the bothon drawe nere.
And evermo that me was woo,
:r hadde I to goo

U r. e that grewe

The in. -o bright of hewe.:

Betir me were to have la ten be,
But it bihovede nede me
To done right as myn herte badde,
For evere the body must be ladde
Aftir the herte, in welt and woo;
Offeree togidre they must goo.
But never this ar< Ide feyne

To shete at me with oeyne.

And forto make me to hym mete,
The thridde arowt • to shete,

Whanne best his tyme he myght espie,
The which wa ./rtesie.

Into myn herte it ale.

A-swoonc i fell botf and pale,

Long tyme I lay ,. ;d nought,

Till I abraide oui thought.

And faste tha? -ic me

To dra</ f tree;

AndLovehaddcgetchyminthisthrowe Butcvr.-. t bihynde,

Another arowe into his bowe, For ought 1 , . le or wynde.

And forto shete gan hym dresse ; So sore it »tikui 1 was hit,

The arowis name was Sympleiie. That by no era-:; ? v gbt it flit,

i whanne that Love gWQ^hKpBWOJaflA 33flHT 3HT Q| thought

I felt sich <n 'i' ay wrough

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That somonede me alway to goo
Toward the rose, that plesede me soo.
But I ne durste in no manere,
Bicause the archer was so nere;
For evermore gladly," as I rede,

For no thing liken me myght more
Than dwellen by the roser ay,
And thennes never to passe away.
But whanne a while I hadde be thare,
The god of Love, which alto-share

" Brent child of fier hath myche drede." Myn herte with his arwis kene,

And certis yit, for al my peyne, Cast hym to yeve me woundis grene.

Though that I sigh yit arwis reyne, He shette at me full hastily

And grounde quarels sharpe of steele, An arwe named Company,
Ne for no payne that I myght feele,

Yit myght I not my-silf witholde
The faire roser to biholde.
For Love me yaf sich hardement
Forto fulfille his comaundement,
Upon my fete I rose up thanne,
Feble as a forwoundid man,
And forth to gon [my] myght I sette,
And for the archer nolde I lette.
Toward the roser fast I drowe,
But thornes sharpe mo than ynowe
Ther were, and also thisteles thikke
And breres brymme forto prikke,
That I ne myghte gete grace
The rowe thornes forto passe,
To sene the roses fresshe of hewe.
I must abide, though it me rewe,
The hegge aboute so thikke was,
That closide the roses in compas.
But o thing lyked me right wele;
I was so nygh I myghte fele
Of the bothon the swote odour,
And also se the fresshe colour.
And that right gretly liked me,
That I so neer myght it se.
Sich joie anoon therof hadde I,
That I forgate my maladie ;
To sene I hadde siche delit,

The whiche takell is full able
To make these ladies merciable.
Thanne I anoon gan chaungen hewe
For grevaunce of my wounde newe,
That I agayn fell in swounyng,
And sighede sore in compleynyng.
Score I compleyned that my sore
On me gan greven more and more.
I hadde noon hope of allegeaunce ;
So nygh I drowe to desperaunce,
I roughte [ne] of deth ne lyf.
Wheder that Love wolde me dryf,
Yf me a martir wolde he make,
I myght his power nought forsake.
And while for anger thus I woke,
The God of Love an arowe toke ;
Ful sharpe it was and [ful] pugnaunt.
And it was callid Faire Semblaunt,
The which in no wise wole consente,
That ony lover hym repente
To serve his love with herte and all
For ony perill that may bifall.
But though this arwe was kene grounde,
As ony rasour that is founde
To kutte and kerve, at the poynt
The God of Love it hadde anoynt
With a precious oynement,
Somdell to yeve aleggement

Of sorwe and angre I was al quyte, Upon the woundes that he hadde

And of my woundes that I hadde thore. Through the body in my herte made,

25 D

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

To helpe her sores and to cure, Therfore I rede make no daungere,

And that they may the bette endure. If thou wolt yelde thee hastely.

But yit this arwe, withoute more, Thou shalt [the] rather have mercy.

Made in myn herte a large sore, He is a foole in sikernesse,

That in full grete peyne I abode. That with daunger or stoutenesse

But ay the oynement wente abrode, Rebellith there that he shulde plese ;

Thourgh-outemy woundeslarge&wide In sich folye is litel ese.

It spredde aboute in every side. Be meke where thou must nedis bowe,

Through whos vertu and whos myght To stryve ageyn is nought thi prowe ;

Myn herte joyfull was and light ; Come at oones and have y-doo,

I hadde ben deed and alto-shent For I wole that it be soo.

But for the precious oynement. Thanne yelde thee heere debonairly."

The shaft I drowe out of the arwe, And I answerid ful hombly :

Roukyng for wo right wondir narwe, " Gladly sir at youre biddyng

But the heed, which made me smerte, I wole me yelde in alle thyng ;

Lefte bihynde in myn herte To youre servyse I wole me take,

With other foure, I dar wel say, For god defende that I shulde make

That never wole be take away. Ageyn youre biddyng resistence,

But the oynement halpe me wele ; I wole not don so grete offence.

And yit sich sorwe dide I fele For if I dide, it were no skile ;

That al day I chaunged hewe Ye may do with me what ye wile,

Of my woundes fresshe and newe. Save or spille and also sloo.

As men myght se in my visage, Fro you in no wise may I goo,

The arwis were so full of rage, My lyf, my deth is in youre honde,

So variaunt of diversitee, I may not laste out of youre bonde ;

That men in everiche myght se Pleyn at youre lyst I yelde me,

Bothe gret anoy, and eke swetnesse Hopyng in herte that sumtyme ye

And joie meynt with bittirnesse. Comfort and ese shull me sende,

No w were they esy, now were they wode, Or ellis shortly, this is the eende,

In hem I felte bothe harme and goode ; Withouten helthe I mote ay dure,

Now sore without aleggement, But if ye take me to youre cure.

Now softyng with the oynement ; Comfort or helthe how shuld I have,

It softed heere and prikked there, Sith ye me hurt, but ye me save ?

Thus ese and anger to-gidre were. The helthe of love mot be founde

The God of Love dely verly Where as they token firste her wounde.

Come lepande to me hastily, And if ye lyst of me to make

And seide to me in gret rape, Youre prisoner, I wole it take

"Yelde thee, for thou may not escape, Of herte and willfully at gree ;

May no defence availe thee heere ; Hoolly and pleyn y yelde me,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Withoute feynyng or feyntise,
To be governed by youre emprise.
Of you I here so mych pris,
I wole ben hool at youre devis
Forto fulfille youre lykyng,
And repente for no thyng,
Hopyng to have yit in some tide
The mercy of that I abide."
And with that covenaunt yelde I me,

That peyne and gret adversite
He mote endure, and eke travaile,
That shal me serve withoute faile.
But ther ageyns thee to comforte,
And with thi servise to desporte,
Thou mayst full glad and joyfull be
So good a maister to have as me,
And lord of so high renoun.
I here of love the gonfenoun,
Of curtesie the banere.
For I am of the silf manere,

Anoon down knelyng upon my kne,

Proferyng forto kisse his feete.

But for no thyng he wolde me lete, Gentil, curteys, meke, and fre,

Andseide,"Ilovetheebotheandpreise, That who ever ententyf be

Sens that thyn answer doth me ese,
For thou answerid so curteisly.
For now I wote wel uttirly
That thou art gentyll by thi speche
For, though a man fer wolde seche,
He shulde not fynden in certeyn
No sich answer of no vileyn,
For sich a word ne myghte nought
Isse out of a vilayns thought.
Thou shalt not lesen of thi speche,
For [to] thy helpyng wole I eche,
And eke encresen that I may.
But first I wole that thou obaye
Fully for thyn avauntage,
Anoon to do me heere homage ;

Me to honoure, doute, and serve,
Nede is that he hym observe
Fro trespasse and fro vilanye,
And hym governe in curtesie
With will and with entencioun.
For whanne he first in my prisoun
Is caught, thanne must be uttirly
Fro thennes forth full bisily
Caste hym gentyll forto bee
If he desire helpe of me."
Anoon withoute more delay,
Withouten daunger or affray,
I bicome his man anoon,
And gave hym thankes many a oon,
And knelide doun with hondis joynt,

And sithe kisse thou shalt my mouthe, And made it in my port full quoint.
Which to no vilayn was never couthe The joye wente to myn herte rote,
Forto aproche it ne forto touche.

For sauff of cherlis I ne vouche
That they shull never neigh it nere ;
For curteis and of faire manere,
Well taught and full of gentilnesse,
He muste ben that shal me kysse ;
And also of full high fraunchise,
That shal atteyne to that emprise.
And first of o thing warne I thee,

Whanne I hadde kissed his mouth so

swote ;

I hadde sich myrthe and sich likyng
It cured me of langwisshing.
He askide of meihanne hostages.
" I have," he seide, " taken fele homages
Of oon and other, where I have bene
Disceyved ofte withouten wene.
These felouns full of falsite

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Have many sithes biguyled me, Thanne of his awmener he drough

Andthroughfalshedeherlustachieved, A litell keye, fetys ynowgh,

Whereof I repente and am agreved. Which was of gold polisshed clere ;

And I hem gete in my daungere, And seide to me, "With this keye heere

Her falshede shull they bie full dere ! Thyn herte to me now wole I shette ;

But for I love thee, I seie thee pleyn, For all my jowell, loke and knette,

I wole of thee be more certeyn. I bynde undir this litel keye,

For thee so sore I wole now bynde, That no wight may carie aweye.

That thou away ne shalt not wynde This keye is full of gret poste."

Forto denyen the covenaunt With which anoon he touchide me

Or don that is not avenaunt. Under the side full softily,

That thou were fals it were gret reuthe, That he myn herte sodeynly

Sith thou semest so full of treuthe." Without anoye hadde spered,

" Sire, if thee lyst to undirstande, That yit right nought it hath me dered.

I merveile the askyng this demande. Whanne he hadde don his will al oute,

For why or wherfore shulde ye And I hadde putte hym out of doute,

Ostages, or borwis aske of me, "Sire," I seide, "I have right gret wille

Or ony other sikirnesse, Youre lust and plesaunce to fulfille.

Sith ye wote in sothfastnesse Loke ye my servise take atte gree

That ye have me susprised so, By thilke feith ye owe to me.

And hole myn herte taken me fro, I seye nought for recreaundise,

That it wole do for me no thing For I nought doute of youre servise,

But if it be at youre biddyng ; But the servaunt traveileth in vayne,
Mynherteisyouresandmynrightnought That forto serven doth his payne

As it bihoveth in dede and thought, Unto that lord which in no wise

Redy in all to worche youre will, Kan hym no thank for his servyse."

Whether so turne to good or ill. Love seide, "Dismaie thee nought,

So sore it lustith you to plese, Syn thou for sokour hast me sought

No man therof may you dcsese. In thank thi servise wole I take

Ye have theron sette sich justice, And high of gre I wole thee make,

That it is werreid in many wise. If wikkidnesse ne hyndre thee ;

And if ye doute it nolde obeye, But as I hope it shal nought be,

Ye may therof do make a keye, To worshipe no wight by aventure

And holde it with you for ostage." May come, but if he peyne endure ;

"Now certis this is noon outrage," Abide and suffre thy distresse

Quod Love, "and fully I acorde ; That hurtith now ; it shal be lesse.

For of the body he is full lord I wote my silf what may thee save,

That hath the herte in his tresour ; What medicyne thou woldist have ;

Outrage it were to asken more." And if thi trouthe to me thou kepe,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

I shal unto thyn helpyng eke, Maad of newe and lusty thyng.

Tocurethy woundesandmakehemclene, For who so wole the eendyng here,

Where so they be olde or grene ; The crafte of love he shall mowe lere,

Thou shalt be holpen at wordis fewe. If that ye wole so long abide

For certeynly thou shalt well shewe Tyl I this Romance may unhide,

Wherethat thouservest with goodwille And undo the signifiance

Forto accomplysshen and fulfille Of this dreme into Romance.

My comaundementis day and nyght The sothfastnesse that now is hidde
Whiche I to lovers yeve of right."
*' Ah Sire, for goddis love," seide I,
" Er ye passe hens ententyfly,
Youre comaundementis to me ye say,
And I shall kepe hem if I may.
For hem to kepen is all my thought.

Without coverture shall be kidde,
Whanne I undon have this dremyng,
Wherynne no word is of lesyng.

And if so be I wote hem nought,
Thanne may I [erre] unwityngly.
Wherfore I pray you entierly,
With all myn herte me to lere,
That I trespasse in no manere."

" Vylanye at the bigynnyng

I wole," sayde Love, " over alle thyng

Thou leve, if thou wolt nought be

Fals and trespasse ageyns me.

I curse and blame generaly

All hem that loven vilanye.

For vilanye makith vilayn,

The God of Love thanne chargide me, And by his dedis a cherle is seyn.

Anoon as ye shall here and see,
Worde by worde by right emprise,
So as the Romance shall devise.
The maister lesith his tyme to lere
Whanne the disciple wole not here ;
It is but veyn on hym to swynke
That on his lernyng wole not thynke.
Who so luste love, late hym entende,
For now the Romance bigynneth to

amende ;

Now is good to here in fay
If ony be that can it say,
And poynte it as the resoun is.
Set forth [an] other gate ywys,
It shall nought well in alle thyng
Be brought to good undirstondyng.
For a reder that poyntith ille
A good sentence may ofte spille.
The book is good at the eendyng

Thise vilayns arn withouten pitee,
Frendshipe, love, and all bounte.
I nyl resseyve unto my servise
Hem that ben vilayns of emprise.
But undirstonde in thyn entent
That this is not myn entendement,
To clepe no wight in noo ages
Oonly gentill for his lynages.
But who so [that] is vertuous,
And in his port nought outrageous,
Whanne sich oon thouseest thee biforn,
Though he be not gentill born,
Thou maist well seyn this is in soth,
That he is gentil by cause he doth
As longeth to a gentilman,
Of hym noon other deme I can.
For certeynly withouten drede
A cherle is demed by his dede
Of hie or lowe, as ye may see,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Or of what kynrede that he bee.
Ne say nought, for noon yvel wille,
Thyng that is to holden stille ;
It is no worshipe to mysseye,
Thou maist ensample take of Keye,
That was somtyme, for mysseiyng,
Hated bothe of olde and ying.
As fer as Gaweyn the worthy
Was preised for his curtesie,
Kay was hated, for he was fell,
Of word dispitous and cruell.
Wherfore be wise and aqueyntable,
Goodly of word and resonable,
Bothe to lesse and eke to mare.
And whanne thou comest there men are,
Loke that thou have in custome ay
First to salue hym, if thou may ;
And if it fall that of hem somme
Salue thee first, be not domme,
But quyte hym curteisly anoon,
Without abidyng, er they goon.
For no thyng eke thy tunge applye
To speke wordis of rebaudrye ;
To vilayne speche in no degre
Late never thi lippe unbounden be,
For I nought holde hym, in good feith,
Curteys that foule wordis seith.
And alle wymmen serve and preise,

For thou maist bothe percey ve and fele,
That pride is bothe foly and synne.
And he that pride hath hym withynne,
Ne may his herte in no wise
Meken ne souplen to servyse.
For pride is founde in every part
Contrarie unto loves art,
And he that loveth trew[e]ly
Shulde hym contene jolily
Withoute pride in sondry wise,
And hym disgysen in queyntise ;
For queynte array withoute drede
Is no thyng proude, who takith hede *
For fresh array, as men may see,
Withoute pride may ofte be.
Mayntene thy silf aftir thi rent,
Of robe and eke of garnement;
For many sithe faire clothyng
A man amendith in mych thyng.
And loke alwey that they be shape,
What garnement that thou shalt make,
Of hym that kan [hem] beste do
With all that perteyneth therto.
Poyntis and sieves be well sittande,
Right and streght on the hande ;
Of shone and bootes newe and faire
Loke at the leest thou have a paire,
And that they sitte so fetisly,

And to thy power her honour reise ; That these ruyde may uttirly

And if that ony myssaiere Merveyle, sith that they sitte so pley

Dispise wymmen, that thou maist here, How they come on or off ageyn.

Blame hym and bidde hym holde hym Were streite gloves with awmere

stille. Of silk, and alwey with good chere

And set thy myght, and all thy wille, Thou yeve, if thou have [gret] richesse ;

, Wymmen and ladies forto please,
And to do thyng that may hem ese,
That they ever speke good of thee ;
For so thou maist best preised be.

Andif thou have nought, spende the lesse
Alwey be mery, if thou may,
But waste not thi good alway.
Have hatte of floures as fresh as May,

Loke fro pride thou kepe thee wele, Chapelett of roses of Wissonday ;

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

For sich array ne costneth but lite.
Thyn hondis wasshe, thy teeth make

white,

And lete no filthe upon thee bee ;
Thy nailes blak if thou maist see,
Voide it awey delyverly ;
And kembe thyn heed right jolily.
Farce not thi visage in no wise,
For that of love is not themprise,
For love doth haten, as I fynde,
A beaute that cometh not of kynde.
Alwey in herte, I rede thee,
Glad and mery forto be ;
And be as joyfull as thou can,
Love hath no joye of sorowful man.
That y veil is full of curtesie
That lowith in his maladie.
For ever of love the sikenesse
Is meynde with swete and bitternesse.
The sore of love is merveilous,
For now [is] the lover joyous,

And if thi voice be faire and clere
Thou shalt make [no] gret daungere
Whanne to synge they goodly prey,
It is thi worship fortobeye.
Also to you it longith ay
Toharpeand gitterne, daunceandplay ;
For if he can wel foote and daunce,
It may hym greetly do avaunce.
Among eke, for thy lady sake.
Songes and complayntes [se] that thou

make,

For that wole meven in her herte,
Whanne they reden of thy smerte.
Loke that no man for scarce thee holde,
For that may greve thee many folde ;
Resoun wole that a lover be
In his yiftes more large and fre
Than cherles that kan naught of lovyng.
For who therof can ony thyng,
He shall be leef ay forto yeve,
In loves lore who so wolde leve.

Now can he pleyne, now can he grone, For he that through a sodeyn sight,
Now can he syngen, now maken mone ; Or for a kyssyng, anoon right

Yaffhoole his herte in will and thought,
And to hym silf kepith right nought,
Aftir swich gift is good resoun
He yeve his good [al] in abandoun.

To day he pleyneth for hevynesse,
To morowe he pleyeth for jolynesse.
The lyf of love is full contrarie,
Which stounde-mele can ofte varie.
But if thou canst mirthis make,
That men in gre wole gladly take,
Do it goodly, I comaunde thee.

Now wole I shortly heere reherce
Of that I have seid in verce

For men shulde, where soevere they be, Al the sentence by and by,
Do thing that [to] hem sittyng is ; In wordis fewe compendiously,

For therof cometh good loos and pris. That thou thebetmaystonhemthynke,

Where-of that thou be vertuous
Ne be not straunge ne daungerous,
For if that thou good ridere be,
Prike gladly that men may [the] se.
In armes also, if thou konne,

Pursue tyl thou a name hast wonne. Mery, and full of jolite,

Whether so it be thou wake or wynke.
For the wordis litel greve
A man to kepe, whanne it is breve.
Who so with love wole goon or ride,
He mote be curteis and voide of pride,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And of largesse alosed be. Fro folk thou must departe in hie,

Firste I joyne thee heere in penaunce That noon perceyve thi maladie.

That evere, withoute repentaunce, But hyde thyne harme thou must alone]

Thou sette thy thought in thy lovyng And go forthe sole, and make thy mone. |i

To laste withoute repentyng, Thou shalte no whyle be in o state,

And thenke upon thi myrthis swete, But whylom colde and whilom hate,

That shall folowe aftir, whan ye mete. Nowereed as rose, nowyeloweandfade.il

And for thou trewe to love shalt be, Suche sorowe I trowe thou never hade ; f

I wole, and comaunde thee Cotidien, ne quarteyne,

That in oo place thou sette all hoole
Thyn herte, withoute halfen doole
Of trecherie and sikernesse ;
For I lovede nevere doublenesse.
To many his herte that wole departe,
Everiche shal have but litel parte ;
But of hym drede I me right nought
That in oo place settith his thought.
Therfore in oo place it sette,
And lat it nevere thennys flette.
For if thou yevest it in lenyng,
I holde it but a wrecchid thyng.
Therfore yeve it hoole and quyte,
And thou shalt have the more merite
If it be lent, that aftir soone
The bounte and the thank is doone,
But in love fre yeven thing
Requyrith a gret guerdonyng.
Yeve it in yift al quyte fully,
And make thi yifte debonairly,
For men that yifte holde more dere
That yeven [is] with gladsome chere.
That yifte nought to preisen is
That man yeveth maugre his.

It is nat so ful of peyne.
For often tymes it shal fal
In love, among thy paynes al,
That thou thy selfe al holy
Foryeten shalte so utterly,
That many tymes thou shalte be
Styl as an ymage of tree,
Domme as a stone, without steryng
Of fotc or honde, without spekyng.

Than, soone after al thy payne,
To memorye shalte thou come agayne,
A man abasshed wonder sore,
And after syghen more and more.
For wytte thou wele, withouten wene,
In suche astate ful ofte have bene,
That have the yvel of love assay de,
Wherthrough thou arte so dismayde.
After a thought shal take the so,
That thy love is to ferre the fro ;
Thoushaltesaye'God ! Whatmay thisbc
That I ne maye my lady se ?
Myne herte alone is to her go,
And I abyde al sole in wo,

Whanne thouhastyeventhyn herte,as I Departed fro myne owne thought,

Have seid [to] thee heere openly,
Thanne aventures shull thee fall
Which harde and hevy ben with-all.

And with myne eyen se right nought.
Alas ! myne eyen send I ne may

For ofte, whan thou bithenkist thee My careful herte to convay !
Of thy lovyng, where so thou be, Myne hertes gyde but they be,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

I prayse nothyng what ever they se. The more thine herte brenneth in fier,

Shul they abyde than ? nay, The more thine herte is in desire.

But gone visyte without delay, For who considreth everydeell,

That myne herte desyreth so. It may be likned wondir well

For certainly, but if they go, The peyne of love unto a fere.

A foole my selfe I maye wel holde, For evermore thou neighest nere,

Whan I ne se what myne hert wolde. Thou or whoo so that it bee,

Wherfore I wol gone her to sene, For verray sothe I tell it thee,

For eased shal I never bene, The hatter evere shall thou brenne,

But I have some tokenyng.' As experience shall thee kenne.

Where so comest in ony coost,

Than gost thou forthe without dwellyng. Who is next fuyre he brenneth moost.

But ofte thou faylest of thy desyre, And yitt forsothe for all thine hete,

Er thou mayst come her any nere, Though thou for love swelte andswete,

And wastest in vayn thi passage. Ne for no thyng thou felen may,

Thanne fallest thou in a newe rage; Thou shalt not willen to passen away.

For want of sight, thou gynnest morne, Andthoughthougo,yittmusttheenede

Andhomewardepensyfthoudostretorne. Thenke alle day on hir fairhede,

In greet myscheefthanneshaltthou bee, Whom thoubiheelde with so good wille,

For thanne agayne shall come to thee And holde thi silf biguyled ille

Sighes and pleyntes with newe woo, That thou ne haddest noon hardement

That no yecchyng prikketh soo. To shewe hir ought of thyne entent.

Who wote it nought, he may go lere Thyn herte full sore thou wolt dispise,

Df hem that bien love so dere. And eke repreve of cowardise,

^Jo thyng thyn herte appesen may That thou, so dulle in every thing,

That ofte thou wole goon and assay, Weredommefordredewithoutespekyng.

,f thou maist seen by aventure Thou shalt eke thenke thou didestfolye,

fhi lyves joy, thine hertis cure. That thou were hir so faste bye,

>o that bi grace if thou myght And durst not auntre thee to say

\tteyne of hire to have a sight, Som thyng er thou cam away,

fhanneshaltthoudonenoonotherdede, For thou haddist nomore wonne,

3ut with that sight thyne eyen fede. To speke of hir whanne thou bigonne,

That faire fresh whanne thou maist see, But yitt she wolde, for thy sake,

Phyne herte shall so ravysshed be, In armes goodly thee have take,

That nevere thou wol dest, thi thankis,lete It shulde have be more worth to thee

<Je remove forto see that swcte. Than of tresour gret plente.

The more thou scest, in sothfastnesse, Thus shalt thou morne and eke
7he more thou coveytest of that swet- compleyne,

nesse; And gete enchesoun to goone ageyne

33 E

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

Unto the walke, or to the place Rygnt thus to thee it shall byfall,

Where thou biheelde hir fleshly face. If ony word thanne come to mynde

And never, for fals suspeccioun, ,That thou to seye hast left bihynde.

Thou woldest fynde occasioun Thannethoushaltbrenneingretmartire,

Forto gone unto hire hous. For thou shalt brenne as ony fiere,

So art thou thanne desirous This is the stryf and eke the affray,

A sight of hir forto have, And the batell that lastith ay ;

If thou thine honour myghtist save, This bargeyn eende may never take,

Or ony erande myghtist make, But if that she thi pees will make.

Thider for thi loves sake And whanne the nyght is comen anoon.

Full fayn thou woldist, but for drede A thousande angres shall come uppon.

Thou gost not, lest that men take hede. To bedde as fast thou wolt thee dight,

Wherfore I red [the] in thi goyng Where thou shalt have but smal delite;

And also in thyne ageyn comyng, For whanne thou wenest forto slepe

Thou be well ware that men ne wite ; So full of peyne shalt thou crepe,

Feyne thee other cause than itte Sterte in thi bedde aboute full wide,

To go that weye or faste bye ; And turne full ofte on every side,

To hele wel is no folye. Now dounward groffand now upright,

And if so be it happe thee, And walowe in woo the longe nyght;

That thou thi love there maist see, Thine armys shalt thou sprede abrede

In siker wise thou hir salewe, As man in werre were forwerede.

Wherewith thi colour woletransmewe, Thanneshalltheecomearemembraunce

And eke thy blode shal alto quake, Of hir shappe and hir semblaunce,
Thyne hewe eke chaungen for hir sake ; Whereto none other may be pere.

Butword andwittewith chere full pale And wite thou wel withoute were,

Shull wante [the] forto tell thy tale. That thee shal [seme] somtyme that
And if thou maist so fer forth wynne, nyght

That thou [thi] resoun dorst bigynne, That thou hast hir, that is so bright,

And woldist seyn thre thingis or mo, Naked bitwene thyne armes there,

Thou shalt full scarsly seyn the two. All sothfastnesse as though it were.
Though thou bithenke thee never so well, Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne

Thou shalt foryete yit somdell, And dreme of joy e, all but in vayne,

But if thou dele with trecherie ; And thee deliten of right nought,

For fals lovers mowe all folye While thou so slomrest in that though

Seyn what hem lust withouten drede, That is so swete and delitable ;

They be so double in her falshede ; The which in soth[e] nys but fable,
For they in herte cunne thenkeathyng, For it ne shall no while laste.

And seyn another in her spekyng. Thanne shalt thou sighe and wepe faste

And whanne thi speche is cendid all, And say, ' Dere god, what thing is this

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

My dreme is turned all amys,
Which was full swete and apparent ;
But now I wake, it is al shent !

A loke on me I-caste goodly,
Than forto have al utterly
Of an other all hoole the pley.

How yede this mery thought away ! A lord, where I shall byde the day

Twenty tymcs upon a day

That evere she shall my lady be ?

I wolde this thought wolde come ageyne, He is full cured that may hir see.

For it aleggith well my peyne ;
It makith me full of joyfull thought.
It sleth me that it lastith noght
A lord, why nyl ye me socoure
Fro joye? I trowe that I langoure;
The deth I wolde me shulde sloo
While I lye in hir armes twoo.

A god, whanne shal the dawnyng

springe ?

To lye thus is an angry thyng;
I have no joye thus heere to lye
Whanne that my love is not me bye.
A man to lye hath gret disese,
Which may not slepe ne reste in ese.

Myne harme is harde, withouten wene, I wolde it dawed and were now day,

My gret unease full ofte I meene.
But wolde love do so I myght
Have fully joye of hir so bright,
My peyne were quyttc me rychely.
Alias, to grete a thing aske I !
Hit is but foly and wrong wenyng
To aske so outrageous a thyng;
:And who so askith folily,
He mote be warned hastily.
And I ne wote what I may say,
I am so fer out of the way.
For I wolde have full gret likyng
And full gret joye of lasse thing;
For wolde she of hir gentylnesse
Withoute more me oonys kysse,
It were to me a grete guerdoun,
Relees of all my passioun.
But it is harde to come therto,
All is but folye that I do ;
So high I have myne herte sette
Where I may no comfort gette ;
I not where I seye well or nought,
But this I wote wel in my thought,
That it were better of hir alloone,
Forto stynte my woo and moone,

And that the nyght were went away;
For were it day I wolde uprise.
A slowe sonne, shewe thine enprise !
Spede thee to sprede thy beemys bright,
And chace the derknesse of the nyght,
To putte away the stoundes stronge,
Whiche in me lasten all to longe !'
The nyght shalt thou contene soo
Withoute rest, in peyne and woo.
If evere thou knewe of love distresse,
Thoushaltmowelerneinthatsicknesse,
And thus enduryng shalt thou lye,
And ryse on morwe up erly
Out of thy bedde, and harneyse thee,
Er evere dawnyng thou maist see.
All pryvyly thanne shall thou goon,
What weder it be, thi silf alloon,
For rcyne or hayle, for snowe, for slete,
Thider she dwellith that is so swete.
The which may fall a-slepe be,
And thenkith but lytel upon thee.
Thanne shalt thou goon fulfoule a-feerd
Loke if the gate be unspered,
And waite without in woo and peyne,
Full yvel acoolde, in wynde and rcyne.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Thanne shal thou go the dore bifore, Unto the mayde that hir doith serve,
If thou maist fynde ony score, So best hir thanke thou shalt deserve.

Or hoole, or reeft what evere it were. Yeve hir yiftes, and gete hir grace,
Thanne shalt thou stoupe,and lay to ere, For so thou may thank purchace,
If they withynne a-slepe be — That she thee worthy holde and free, ,

I mene all save the lady free. Thi lady, and all that may thee see.

Whom wakyng if thou maist aspie, Also hir servauntes worshipe ay,

And please as mycrr as thou may ;

Crete good through hem may come to the

Bi-cause with hir they ben pry ve ;

That thou [a-]nyght no rest hast hadde, They shal hir telle hoe they thee fande
So sore for hir thou were bystadde ; Curteis, and wys, and well doande,

And she shall preise well the mare.

Loke oute of londe thou be not fare,

J W

Go putte thi-silf in jupartie,
To aske grace, and thee bimene,
That she may wite withoute wene

Wommen wel ought pite to take
Of hem that sorwen for her sake.
And loke, for love of that relyke,
That thou thenke noon other lyke ;
For whanne thou hast so gret annoy,
Shall kysse thee er thou go away,
And holde that in full gret deynte.
And for that noman shal thee see
Bifore the hous, ne in the way,
Loke thou be goone ageyn er day.

Such comyng and such goyng,
Such hevynesse and such wakyng
Makith lovers, withouten wene,
Under her clothes pale and lene.
For love leveth colour ne cleernesse,
Who loveth trewe hath no fatnesse ;
Thou shalt wel by thy-silf [y-]see
That thou must nedis assaied be ;
For men that shape hem other weye
Falsly her ladyes to bitraye,
It is no wonder though they be fatt,
With false othes her loves they gatt.
For oft I see suche losengours
Fatter than abbatis or priours.
Yit with o thing I thee charge,
That is to seye that thou be large

And if such cause thou have that thee
Bihoveth to gone out of contree,
Leve hoole thin herte in hostage,
Till thou ageyn make thi passage.
Thenke longe to see the swete thyng>
That hath thine herte in hir kepyng.
Now have I tolde thee in what wise
A lovere shall do me servise ;
Do it thanne if thou wolt have
The meede that thou aftir crave."
Whanne Love all this hadde boden me,.
I seide hym, "Sire, how may it be
That lovers may in such manere
Endure the peyne ye have seid heere
I merveyle me wonder faste
How ony man may lyve or laste
In such peyne and [in] such brennyng;
In sorwe and thought, and such signing,
Aye unrelesed woo to make,
Whether so it be they slepe or wake,
In such annoy contynuely,
As helpe me god, this merveile I
How man, but he were maad of stel
Myght lyve a monthe such peynes t
fele."

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The God of Love thanne seide me, For joy e that aftirward shall aryse.

" Freend, by the feith I owe to thee, Hope in desire hathe victorie,

May no man have good but he it bye ; In hope of love is all the glorie,

A man loveth more tendirly For hope is all that love may yive ;

Thethyngthathehathboughtmostdere. Nere hope ther shulde no lover lyve.

For wite thou well, withouten were, Blessid be hope, which with desire

In thanke that thyng is taken more
For which a man hath suffred sore.
Certis no wo ne may atteyne
Unto the sore of loves peyne;
Noon yvel therto ne may amounte,
Nomore than a man [may] counte
The dropes that of the water be.
For drye as well the greete see
Thou myghtist, as the harmes telle
Of hem that with love dwelle
In servyse ; for peyne hem sleeth,
And yet ech man wolde fle the deeth.
And trowe thei shulde nevere escape,
Nere that hope couthe hem make
Glad, as man in prisoun sett,
And may not geten forto etc
But barly breed and watir pure,
And lyeth in vermyn and in ordure ;
With all this yitt can he lyve,

Avaunceth lovers in such manere !
Good hope is curteis forto please,
To kepe lovers from all disese ;
Hope kepith his bonde, and wole abide
For ony perill that may betyde ;
For hope to lovers, as most cheef,
Doth hem endure all myscheef;
Hope is her helpe whanne myster is.

And I shall yeve thee eke I-wys
Three other thingis, that gret solas
Doith to hem that be in my las.
The firste good that may be founde
To hem that in my lace be bounde
Is SWETE THOUGHT, forto recorde
Thing wherwith thou canst accorde
Best in thyne herte, where she be.
Thenkyng in absence is good to thee.

Whanne ony lover doth compleyne,

Goodhopesuch comfort hath hym yive, And lyveth in distresse and in peyne,

Which maketh wene that he shall be ThanneSwete-Thoughtshalcomeasblyve

Delyvered and come to liberte. Awey his angre forto dryve.

In fortune is [his] full trust, It makith lovers to have remembraunce,

Though he lye in strawe or dust ; Of comfort and of high plesaunce,

In hoope is all his susteynyng. That hope hath hight hym forto wynne.

And so for lovers in her wenyng, ForThoughtanoonthanneshallbygynne,

Whiche Love hath shitte in his prisoun, As ferre, god wote, as he can fy nde,

Good hope is her salvacioun. To make a mirrour of his mynde;

Good hope how sore that they smerte Forto biholde he wole not lette.

Yeveth hem bothe will and herte
To profre her body to martire ;
For hope so sore doith hem desire
To sufrre ech harme that men devise

Hir persone he shall afore hym sette,
Hir laughing eyen, persaunt and clere,
Hirshappe,hirfourme,hirgoodlychere;
Hir mouth, that is so gracious,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

So swete and eke so saverous ; To me is noon so high plesaunce

Of all hir fetures he shall take heede, As of his persone dalyaunce.'

His cyen with all hir lymes fede. She wist full well that Swete-Spekyng

Thus Swete-Thenkyng shall aswage Comfortith in full myche thyng.

The peyne of lovers and her rage. Hir love she hadde full well assaid,

Thi joye shall double withoute gesse Of him she was full well apaid ;

Whannethouthenkistonhirscmlynesse, To speke of hym hir joye was sett.

Or of hir laughing, or of hir chere Therfore I rede thee that thou gett

That to thee made thi lady dere. A felowe that can well concele,

This comfort wole I that thou take ; And kepe thi counsell, and well hele,

And if the next thou wolt forsake, To whom go shewe hoolly thine hertc,

Which is not lesse saverous, Bothe well and woo, joye and smerte ;

Thou shuldist ben to daungerous. To gete comfort to hym thou goo,

And pryvyly bitwene yow twoo

The secounde shal be SWETE-SPECHE, Yee shall speke of that goodly thyng,

That hath to many oon be leche That hath thyne herte in hir kepyng.

To bringe hem out of woo and were, Of hir beaute, and hir semblaunce,

And holpe many a bachilere, And of hir goodly countenaunce ;

And many a lady sent socoure, Of all thi state, thou shalt hym seye,

That have loved paramour, And aske hym counseill how thou ma]

Through spekyng whanne they myght Do ony thyng that may hir plese ;

heere For it to thee shall do gret ese,

Of hir lovers, to hem so dere. That he may wite thou trust hym soo,

To hem it voidith all her smerte, Bothe of thi wele and of thi woo.

The which is closed in her herte ; And if his herte to love be sett,

In herte it makith hem glad and light, His companye is myche the bett,
Speche,whannetheymowehave[no]sight. For resoun wole he shewe to thee

And therfore now it cometh to mynde All uttirly his pryvyte,

In olde dawes, as I fynde, And what she is he loveth so.

That clerkis writen that hir knewe ; To thee pleynly he shall undo,

Ther was a lady, fresh of hewe, Withoute drede of ony shame,

Which of hir love made a songe, Bothe tell hir renoun and hir name.

On hym forto remembre amonge, Thanne shall he forther, ferre and nere,

Inwhichsheseyde: 'Whanne that I here And namely to thi lady dere.

Speken of hym that is so dere, In syker wise yee every other

To me it voidith alle smerte. Shall helpen, as his owne brother,

I-wys, he sittith so nerc myne herte In trouthe withoute doublenesse,

To speke of hym at eve or morwe And kepen cloos in sikernesse ;

It cureth me of all my sorwe. For it is noble thing in fay

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

To have a man thou darst say Right as the derknesse of the nyght

Thy pryve counsell every deell ; Is chased with clerenesse of the mone>

For that wole comforte thee right well, Right so is al his woo full soone
And thou shalt holde thee well apayed, Devoided clene, whanne that the sight
Whannesuchafreendthouhastassayed. Biholden may that freshe wight

That the herte desireth soo,

The thridde good of gret comforte, That al his derknesse is agoo.
That yeveth to lovers moste disporte, For thanne the herte is all at ese,

Corny th of sight and of biholdyng,
That clepid is SWETE-LOKYNG.
The which may [thee] noon ese do
Whanne thou art fer thy lady fro.
Wherfore thou prese alwey to be
In place where thou maist hir see.
For it is thyng most amerous,
Most delytable and saverous,
Forto a-swage a mannes sorowe,
To sene his lady by the morwe.
For it is a full noble thing,
Whanne thyne eyen have metyng
With that relikc precious
Wherof they be so desirous.
But al day after, soth it is,
They have no drede to faren amysse ;

Whanne the eyen sene that may hem

plese.

Now have I declared thee all oute
Of that thou were in drede and doute,
For I have tolde thee feithfully
What thee may curen utterly.
And alle lovers that wole be
Feithfull and full of stabilite,
Good hope alwey kepe bi thi side,
And Swete-Thought, make eke abide ;
Swete-Lokyng and Swete-Speche.
Of all thyne harmes thci shall be leche :
Ofevery thou shalt havegretplesaunce>
If thou canst bide in suffraunce,
And serve wcl withoute feyntise ;
Thou shalt be quyte of thyne emprise

They dreden neither wynde ne reyne, With more guerdoun,if that thou lyve,

Ne noon other maner peyne.

But at this tyme this I thee yive.'

Forwhannethyneeyen were thus in blisse, The God of Love, whanne al the day

Yit of hir curtesie, y-wysse,
Alloonc they can not have her joye,
But to the herte they [it] convoye;
Parte of her blisse to hym they sende,
Of all this harme to make an ende.
The eye is a good messangere,
Which can to the herte in such manere
Tidyngis sende, that hath sene
To voide hym of his peynes clenc.
Wherof the herte rejoiseth soo,
That a gret partyc of his woo

Had taught me as ye have herd say,
And enfourmed compendiously,
He vanyshide awey all sodeynly ;
And I alloone lefte all soole,
So full of compleynt and of doole,
For I sawe no man there me by.
My woundes me greved wondirly ;
Me forto curen no thyng I knewe
Save the bothon bright of hewe,
Wheron was sett hoolly my thought.
Of other comfort knewe I nought,

Is voided, and putte awey to flight, But it were thrugh the God of Love.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

I knewe not elles to my bihove
That myght me ease or comfort gete,
But if he wolde hym entermete.
The roser was withoute doute
Closed with an haye withoute,
As ye toforn have herd me seyne.
And fast I bisiede, and wolde fayne

To you it cometh of gret fraunchise
That ye me profer youre servise."
Thanne aftir, full delyverly,
Thorough the breres anoon wente I,
Wherof encombred was the hay.
I was wel plesed, the soth to say,
To se the bothon faire and swote

Have passed the hay, if [that] I myght So freshe spronge out of the rote.

Have geten ynne by ony slight
Unto the bothon so faire to see.
But evere I dradde blamed to be,
If men wolde have suspeccioun
That I wolde of entencioun
Have stole the roses that there were
Therforc to entre I was in fere.
But at the last, as I bithought,
Whether I shulde passe or nought,
I sawe come with a glad chere
To me a lusty bachelere,
Of good stature and of good hight ;
And BIALACOIL forsothe he hight,
Sone he was to Curtesie.
And he me grauntide full gladly
The passage of the outter hay,
And seide, " Sir, how that yee may
Passe, if [that] youre wille be
The freshe roser forto see,
And yee the swete savour fele,
You warrante may [I] right wele.
So thou thee kepe fro folye,
Shall no man do thee vylanye ;
If I may helpe you in ought,
I shall not feyne, dredeth nought,
For I am bounde to youre servise,
Fully devoide of feyntise."
Thanne unto Bialacoil saide I :
*' I thanke you, sir, full hertely
And youre biheeste take at gre,
That ye so goodly profer me.

And Bialacoil me served well
Whanne I so nygh me myghte fele
Of the bothon the swete odour
And so lusty hewed of colour.
But thanneacherle (foulehymbityde !)
Biside the roses gan hym hyde,
To kepe the roses of that roscr
Of whom the name was DAUNGER.
This cherle was hid there in thegreves,
Kovered with gras and with leves,
To spie and take whom that he fonde
Unto that Roser putte an honde.
He was not soole, for ther was moo ;
For with hym were other twoo
Of wikkid maners and yvel fame.
That oon was clepid by his name
WYKKED-TONGE (godyevehymsorwe !)
For neither at eve ne at morwe
He can of no man good [ne] speke;
On many a just man doth he wreke.
Ther was a womman eke that hight
SHAME, that, who can reken right,
Trespace was hir fadir name,
Hir moder Resoun; andthuswasShame

Brought of these ilke twoo.
And yitt hadde Trespasse never adoo
With Resoun, ne never ley hir bye
He was so hidous and so ugly,
I mene this that Trespas hight ;
But resoun conceyved of a sight
Shame, of that I spake aforne.
40

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE
And whanne that Shame was thus [y-] And whanne I felte I was aqueynte

borne,

It was ordeyned that CHASTITE
Shulde of the Roser lady be,
Which of the bothons more and lasse
With sondre folk assailed was,
That she ne wiste what to doo.
For Venus hir assailith soo,
That nyght and day from hir she stale
Bothons and roses over-all.

To Resoun thanne praieth Chastite, In herte I have hadde so gret peyne,
Whom Venus hath flemed over the see, So gret annoy and such affray,
That she hir doughter wolde hir lene, That I ne wote what I shall say,

With Bialacoil, and so pryve,
I wende all at my will hadde be.
Thanne waxe I hardy forto telle
To Bialacoil how me bifelle
Of love, that toke and wounded me ;
And seide: " Sir, so mote I thee,
I may no joye have in no wise
Uppon no side, but it rise.
For sithens, if I shall not feyne,

To kepe the Roser fresh and grene.
A.noon Resoun to Chastite
Is fully assented that it be,
\nd grauntide hir at hir request
Fhat Shame, by cause she is honest,
shall keper of the roser be.
\nd thus to kepe it ther were three,
That noon shulde hardy be ne bolde,
Were he yong or were he olde,
\geyn hir will awey to bere
Bothons ne roses that there were,
hadde wel spedde, hadde I not bene
Vwayted with these three and sene.
?or Bialacoil, that was so faire,
>o gracious and debonaire,
}uytt hym to me full curteislye,
V.nd me to please, bade that I
•hulde drawe me to the bothon nere ;
in to touche the rosere

I drede youre wrathe to disserve.
Lever me were that knyves kerve
My body shulde in pecys small,
Than any weyes it shulde fall
That yewratthed shulde ben with me."
" Sey boldely thi will," quod he,
" I nyl be wroth, if that I may,
For nought that thou shalt to me say."
Thanne seide I, "Ser, not you displease
To knowen of myn gret unnese,
In which oonly love hath me brought.
For peynes gret, disese, and thought,
Fro day to day he doth me drye —
Supposeth not, sir, that I lye.
In me fyve woundes dide he make,
The soore of whiche shall nevere slake ;
But ye the Bothon graunte me
Which is moost passaunt of beaute,
My lyf, my deth, and my martire,
Vhich bare the roses, he yaf me leve; And tresour, that I moost desire."
This graunte ne myght but lytel greve. Thanne Bialacoil, affrayed all,

\nd for he sawe it liked me,

Seyde, " Sir, it may not fall —

lyght nygh the bothon pullede he That ye desire, it may not arise.

^ leef all grene and yaff me that ;

7he whiche full nygh the bothon sat,

made [me] of that leef full queynte.

What ! Wolde ye shende me in this

wise ?
A mochel foole thanne I were,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

If I sufFride you awey to bere I wole no more in thee affye,

The fresh bothoun so faire of sight. That comest so slyghly for tespye ;

For it were neither skile ne right, For it preveth wonder well

Of the roser ye broke the ryndc, Thy sleight and tresoun every deell."

Or take the rose aforn his kynde ; I durst no more there make abode

Ye are not curteys to aske it. For the cherl, he was so wode ;

Late it still on the roser sitt, So gan he threte and manace,

And growe til it amended be And thurgh the haye hedide me chace.

And parfytly come to beaute ; Forfeerof hym I tremblyde and quoke,

I nolde not that it pulled were So cherlishly his heed it shoke ;

Fro the roser that it here, And seide, if eft he myght me take

To me it is so leef and deere." I shulde not from his hondis scape.

With that sterteoute anoon Daungere, Thanne Bialacoil is fledde and mate,

Out of the place were he was hidde; And I, all soole, disconsolate,

His malice in his chere was kidde. Was left aloone in peyne and thought.

Full grete he was and blak of hewe, For shame to deth I was nygh brought.

Sturdy and hidous,who so hym knewe, Thanne thought I on myn high foly,

Likesharpurchounshishere was growe ; How that my body utterly

His eyes reed as the fyre glowe, Was yeve to peyne and to martire ;

His nose frounced, full kirked stoode. And therto hadde I so gret ire,

He come criande as he were woode, That I ne durst the haye passe.

And seide : " Bialacoil, telle me why There was noon hope, there was no
Thou bryngest hider so booldely grace,

Hym that [is] so nygh the roser ! I trowe nevere man wiste of peyne,

Thou worchist in a wrong manner ; But he were laced in loves cheyne ;

He thenkith to dishonoure thee. Ne no man [not], and sooth it is,

Thou art wel worthy to have maugree, But if he love, what anger is.

To late hym of the roser wite ; Love holdith his heest tome right we

Who serveth feloun is y vel quitte. Whanne peyne he seide I shulde fele. *

Thou woldist have doon gret bounte, Noon hertemay thenke,ne tunge seyne

And he with shame woulde quyte thee. A quarter of my woo and peyne ;

Fie hennes, Felowe ! I rede thee goo, I myght not with the anger laste.

It wanteth litel I wole thee sloo ; Myn herte in poynt was forto brast,

For Bialacoil ne knewe thee nought, Whanne I thought on the rose,that so<

Whanne thee to serve he sette his Was thurgh Daunger cast me froo.

thought ; A longe while stode I in that state,

For thou wolt shame hym, if thou Til that me saugh so madde and mate

myght, The lady of the highe ward,

Bothe agey ns resoun and right. Which from hir tourlokide thiderward

PEYNE

THE ROM/

If I sufFride you awey to bcre
The fresh bothoun so rat re of sight.
For it were neither skile ne right,
Of the roser ye broke the ryndc,
Or take the rose aforn his kynde;
Ye arc not curteys to aske it.
Late it still on the roser sitt,
And growe til it amended be
And parfytly come to beaute ;
I nolde not that it pulled were
Fro the roser that it here,
To me it is so leef and deere."

For it f
Thy

tiMte affye,

r tespye ;
ell

•esoun every deell."
I durst n'> more there make abode
For the cher^ he was so wode ;
So gan he threte and manace,
And thurgh the haye hedide me chacc
Forfeerof hym I tremblydeand quokf
So cherlishly his heed it shoke ;
And seidc, if eft he myght me take
I shulde not from his hondis scape.

With that sterteoute anoon Daungere, Thanne Bialacoil is fledde and mate,

Out of the place were he was hidde ; And I, all soole, disconsolate,

His malice in his chere was kidde. Was left aloone in peyne and though!

Full grete he was and blak of hewe, For shame to deth I was nygh brougl

Sturdy and hidous,who so hym knewe, Thanne thought I on myn high foly

Like sharp urchouns his here wasgrowe ; How that my body utterly

His eyes reed as the fyre glowe,

His nose frounced, full kirked stoode.

He come criande as he were woode,

And seide : " Bialacoil, telle me why

Thou bryngcst hider so booldely

Hym that [is] so nygh the roser !

Thou\N in a wrong manner;

He the;

Thou art wcl

To late hym

Whoservcth •

Thou woldist hav

And he with shamrwt-.kk ^

Flc hennes, Fclowc ! } **c§f

It wanteth litci 1

For Biahcoii w k««wv *&!*

..•'.••"
^ thought ;

•^

grvns rpjoan ui^ HM

Was yeve to peyne and to martire;
An< i hadde I so gret ire,

That I uc durst the haye passe.
There was noon hope, there was no

t* of peyne,
• es cheyne;
th it is,

is.

t:est tome right we

e I shulde fel

;<.nke,netungesey

•'••••>o and peyne ;

:je anger laste.

r was forto brast

t the rose, that:

jgcr cast me froo.

• :c. I in that state,

o madde and m

c ward,

)kidethide

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

RESOUN men clepe that lady,
Which from hir tour delyverly,
Come doun to me withoute more.
But she was neither yong ne hoore,
Ne high ne lowe, ne fat ne lene,
But best as it were in a mene.
Hir eyen twoo were cleer and light
As ony candell that brenneth bright ;
And in hir heed she hadde a crowne.
Hir semede wel an high persoune ;
For rounde enviroun hir crownet
Was full of riche stony s frett.
Hir goodly semblaunt by devys
I trowe were maad in Paradys ;
For nature hadde nevere such a grace
To forge a werk of such compace.
For certeyn, but if the letter lye,
God hym-silf, that is so high,
Made hir aftir his ymage,
And yaffhir sith sich avauntage,
That she hath myght and seignorie
To kepe men from all folye.
Who so wole trowe hir lore,
Ne may offenden nevermore.

She hath [thee] trasshedwithoutewene.

The God of Love hadde the not sene,

Ne hadde Idilnesse thee conveyed

In the verger, where Myrthehymplcyed.

If foly have supprised thee,

Do so that it recovered be,

And be wel ware to take nomore,

Counsel that greveth aftir sore.

He is wise that wole hym-silf chastise ;

And though a yong man in ony wise

Trespace amonge and do foly,

Late hym not tarye, but hastily

Late hym amende what so be mys.

And eke I counseile thee I-wys

The God of Love hoolly foryete,

That hath thee in sich peyne sette,

And thee in herte tourmented soo.

I can not sene how thou maist goo

Other weyes to garisoun ;

For Daunger that is so feloun

Felly purposith thee to werreye,

Which is ful cruel, the soth to seye.

And yitt of Daunger cometh no blame
In rewarde of my doughter Shame,
Which hath the roses in her warde,
As she that may be no musarde.
And WIKKED-TUNGE is with these two,

And while I stode thus derk and pale,

Resoun bigan to me hir tale.

She seide: " Al hayle,myswetefreende!

Foly and childhoode wole theesheende, That suffrith no man thider goo.

Which the have putt in gret affray ; For er a thing be, do he shall,

Thou hast bought deere the tyme of May, Where that he cometh over-all,

That made thyn herte mery to be.
In yvell tyme thou wentist to see
The gardyne, wherof Idilnesse
Bare the keye and was maistresse,
Whanne thou yedest in the daunce
With hir, and haddest aqueyntaunce.
Hir aqueyntaunce is perilous,
First softe and aftir noious ;

In fourty places, if it be sought,
Seye thyng that nevere was don ne

wrought ;

So moche tresoun is in his male,
Of falsnesse forto seyne a tale.
Thou delest with angry folk y-wis;
Wherfore to thee bettir is
From these folk awey to fare,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

For they wole make thee lyve in care. Whanne I hir herd thus me chastise,

This is the yvell that love they calle, I answerd in ful angry wise ;

Wherynne ther is but foly alle ; I prayed hir ceessen of hir speche,

For love is foly everydell. Outher to chastise me or teche,

Who loveth in no wise may do well, To bidde me my thought refreyne,

Ne sette his thought on no good werk. Which Love hath caught in his demeyne

His scole he lesith, if he be clerk ; " What ! Wene ye Love wole consente,

Of other craft eke if he be, That me assailith with bowe bente,

He shal not thryve therynne, for he To drawe myne herte out of his honde,

In love shal have more passioun Which is so qwikly in his bonde ?

Than monke, hermyte, or chanoun. That ye counseyle may nevere be ;

The peyne is hard out of mesure, For whanne he firste arestide me,

The joye may eke no while endure ; He took myne herte so hoole hymtille,

And in the possessioun, That it is no thyng at my wille.

Is mych tribulacioun. He taught it so hym forto obey,

The joye it is so short lastyng, That he it sparrede with a key.

And but in happe is the getyng. I pray yow late me be all stille,

For I see there many in travaill For ye may well, if that ye wille,

That atte laste foule fayle. Youre wordis waste in idilnesse.

I was no thyng thi counseler For utterly, withouten gesse,

Whanne thou were maad the omager All that ye seyn is but in veyne.

Of God of Love to hastily. Me were lever dye in the peyne,

Ther was no wisdom, but foly ; Than Love to-me-ward shulde arette

Thyne herte was joly but not sage, Falsheed, or tresoun on me sette.

Whannethouwerebroughtinsicharage, I wole me gete prys or blame

To yelde thee so redily. And Love trewe to save my name ;

Who that me chastith I hym hate."

And to leve of his gret maistrie, With that word Resounwente hir gate,

I rede thee Love awey to dryve, Whanne she saugh for no sermonynge

That makith thee recche not of thi lyve. She myght me fro my foly brynge.

The foly more fro day to day Thanne dismaied I, lefte all sool,

Shal growe, but thou it puttc away. Forwery, forwandred, as a fool,

Take with thy teeth the bridel faste For I ne knewe no chevisaunce.

To daunte thyne herte, and eke thee Thanne fell into my remembraunce

caste, How Love bade me to purveye

If that thou maist gete thee defence, A felowe, to whom I myght seye

Forto redresse thi first offence. My counsell and my pryvete,

Who so his herte alwey wole leve For that shulde moche availe me.

Shalfyndeamonge that shal hym greve." With that bithought I me that I

THE LOVER LISTENING TO REASOUN

[E ROM AIL*

For they wole make r in care. i thus me chastise,

Thi; 11 that love they calk, ^ry wise;

Whery not ; 5 r speche,

For i • e or techc,

Who Icn Tc bidde me my thought refreyne,

Ne scttc his thought on no good werk. Which Love hath caught in his demeynj

Hi^ scole he lesith, if he be clerk ; "What ! Wene ye Love wole consent^

Of other craft eke if he be, That me assailith with bowe bente,

He shal not thryve therynne, for he To drawe myne hcrte out of his hondf

In love $hal have more passioun Which is so qwikly in his bonde ?

Than nionke, hermyte, or chanoun. That ye counseyle may neverc be;

The peyne is hard out of mesure, For whanne he firste arestide me,

The joye may eke no while endure; He took myne herte so hoole

And in the possessioun, That it is no thyng at my wilie.

Is mych tribulacioun. He taught it so hym forto obey,

The joye it is so short lastyng, That he it ?parrcde with a key.

And but in happe is the getyng. I pray yow late me be all stille,

For I see there many in travaill For ye may well, if that ye wille,

That atte laste foule fayle. Youre wordis waste in idilnesst.

I was no thyng thi counseler For utterly, withouten gesse,

Whanne thou were maad the omager All that ye seyn is but in veyne.

Of God of Love to hastily. Me were lever dye in the peyne,

Thcr was no wisdom, but foly ; Than Love to-me-ward shulde

Thyne herte was joly but not sage, Falsheed, or > on me sette.

Whanne thou were brought insicharage, I wole me g or blame

To yelde thee so redily. And Love tJ\ p e mv name ; . I

Who that me h I hym hire."

And to leve of his gret maistrie, Writh that word ; : 'nrgattf

I rede thee Love awey to dryve, Whanne she sai> no serrnony^gj

That makith thee rccche not of thi lyve. She myght me ? v foly brynge.

The foly more fro day to day Thanncdisn; icallsool,

Shal growe, but thou it puttc away. Forwery, iofv i, as a fool,

Take with thy teeth the bridcl faste For I ne kne\» .evisaunce.

To daunte thync hcrte, and eke th«e Thanne feli jr remembraunci^

caste, H<^w Love br ro purvey e

If that thou maist getc thee defence, whom I myght seye

Forto redresse thi first offence. *c ;ny pryvete,

Who so his herte alwey wole levc ;^fcic rnoche availe me.

l mc that 1

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Hadde a felowe faste by I shal thee telle what them shalt doo:

Trewe and siker, curteys and hende ; Mekely I rede thou go hym to,

And he was called by name a FREENDE, Of herte pray hym specialy

A trewer felowe was no wher noon. Of thy trespace to have mercy,

In haste to hym I wente anoon, And hote well, [hym] here to plese,

And to hym all my woo I tolde, Thatthoushaltnevermorehymdisplese.

Fro hym right nought I wold witholde. Who can best serve of flaterie,

I tolde him all withoute were, Shall please Daunger most uttirly."

And made mycompleynt onDaungere, My freend hath seid to me so wel,

How forto see he was hidous, That he me esid hath somdell,

And to-me-ward contrarious; And eke allegged of my torment.

The whiche, thurgh his cruelte For thurgh hym had I hardement

Was in poynt to have meygned me. Agayn to Daunger forto go,

With Bialacoil whanne he me sey To preve if I myght meke hym soo.

Withy nne the gardeynwalke and pley, To Daunger came I all ashamed,

Fro me he made hym forto go ; The which aforn me hadde y-blamed,

And I, bilefte aloone in woo, Desiryng forto pese my woo.

I durst no lenger with hym speke, But over hegge durst I not goo,

For Daunger seide he wolde be wreke, For he forbede me the passage.

Whanne that he sawe how I wente I fonde hym cruel in his rage

The freshe bothon forto hente, And in his honde a gret burdoun.

If I were hardy to come neer To hym I knelide lowe a-doun,

Bitwene the hay and the Roser. Ful meke of port and symple of chcre,

And seide, "Sir, I am comen heere

This freend, whanne he wiste of my Oonly to aske of you mercy ;

thought, It greveth me full gretly

He discomforted me right nought, That evere my lyf I wratthed you.

But seide, "Felowe, be not so madde, But forto amenden I am come now,

Ne so abaysshed, nor bystadde ; Withallmy myght,botheloudeandstille,

My silf I knowe full well Daungere, To doon right at youre owne wille.

And how he is feers of his cheere For Love made me forto doo

At prime temps love to manace. That I have trespassed hidirto,

Ful ofte I have ben in his caas; Fro whom I ne may withdrawe myne
A feloun firste though that he be, herte.

Aftir thou shalt hym souple se. Yit shall never for joy ne smerte,

Of longe passed I knewe hym well ; What so bifalle, good or ille,

Ungoodly first though men hym feele, OfFende more ageyn youre wille ;

He wole meke aftir in his beryng Lever I have endure disese,

Been, for service and obeyssyng. Than do that you shulde displese.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

I you require and pray that ye
Of me have mercy and pitee
To stynte your ire that greveth soo.
That I wole swere for ever mo
To be redressid at youre likyng,
If I trespasse in ony thyng.
Save that I pray thee graunte me
A thyng that may not warned be :
That I may love all oonly,
Noon other thyng of you aske I.
I shall doon elles well I-wys,
If of youre grace ye graunte me this ;
And ye may not letten me,
For wel wot ye that love is free,
And I shall loven sithen that I wille,
Who evere like it, well or ille.
And yit ne wold I for all Fraunce
Do thyng to do you displesaunce."

Thanne Daunger fille in his entent
Forto foryeve his male talent ;
But all his wratthe yit atte laste
He hath relesed, I preyde so faste.
Shortly he seide, " Thy request
Is not to mochel dishonest,
Ne I wole not werne it thee ;
For yit no thyng engreveth me.

Though he aforn was dispitous,
He shall heere aftir be gracious.
If he were touchid on somme good

veyne,

He shuld yit rewen on thi peyne.
Suffre I rede, and no boost make,
Till thou at good mes maist hym take,
By sufferaunce and wordis softe
A man may overcome ofte
Hym that aforn he hadde in drede,
In bookis sothly as I rede."
Thus hath my freendwith gret comfort
Avaunced me with high disport,
Which wolde me good as mych as I.
And thanne anoon full sodeynly
I toke my leve, and streight I wente
Unto the hay, for gret talent
I hadde to sene the fresh bothoun
Wherynne lay my salvacioun.
And Daunger toke kepe, if that I
Kepe hym covenaunt trewely.
So sore I dradde his manasyng
I durst not breke his biddyng,
For lest that I were of hym shent
I brake not his comaundement,
Forto purchase his good wille.
It was [nat] forto come ther-tille,

For though thou love thus evermore, His mercy was to ferre bihynde ;
To me is neither softe ne score. I wepte for I ne myght it fynde.

Love where the list, what recchith me, I compleyned and sighed sore,

So [thou] fer fro my roses be ?
Trust not on me for noon assay,
If ony tyme thou passe the hay."
Thus hath he graunted my praiere.
Thanne wente I forth withouten were
Unto my freend, and tolde hym all,
Which was right joyfull of my tale. That in me ther was no feyntise,
He seide, "Now goth wel thyn affaire, Falsheed, ne no trecherie.
He shall to thee be debonaire ; And yit he full of vylanye,

And langwisshed evermore,
For I durst not over goo
Unto the rose I loved soo.
Thurgh my demenyng outerly
[Thanne he had knowlege certanly,]
That Love me ladde in sich a wise

UNTO MY FREEND, AND TOLDE HYM ALL

THE ROM AUNT
I you require and pray that ye
Ofmei i pi tec

To stynte your ire that grcveth soo.
That I wolc swerc for ever mo ve*,

TO be redressid at youre likyng,
If I trespasse in ony thyng.
Save that I pray thee graunte me
A thyng that may not warned be :
That I may love all oonly,
Noon other thyng of you aske I.
!I doon ellcs well I-wys,

!'.re grace ye graunte me this ;
A»d ye may not letten me,

wcl wot ye that love is free,

nail loven sithen that I wille,
Who evere like it, well or ille.
And yit nc wold I for all Fraunce
Do thyng to do you displesaunce."

Thanne Daunger fille in his entent
to foryeve his male talent ;
ill his wratthc yit atte laste
in relesed, I preyde so faste.

he seide, " Thy request
Is not to mochel dishonest,
Ne I wole not werne it thee ;
For yit no thyng engreveth me.
For though thou love thus t .
To me is neither w»fte nc M*>rc,
Lov
So

Trust not on me (or noon taay..
If ony tyme thou passe the hay. **
Thus hath ht grannim! mv priic.'Y.
Thanne wcntc I forth w; * t /«

Unto mv frcc'nd,

j j

Which was right joyfull of my i*k

He seide, **N

He shall to thee &fc W™ 3CUOT C1MA %

.
e good

He hi peyne.

Suff' , and no boost make,

Till thou at good mes maist hym take.
By sufferaunce and wordis softe
A man may overcome ofte
Hym that aforn he hadde in drede,
In book is sothly as I rede."
Thus hath my freendwith gret comforl
Avaunced me with high disport,
Which wolde me good as mych as I.
And thannc anoon full sodeynly
I toke my levc, and streight I wcnte
Unto the hay, for gret talent
I hadde to scne the fresh bothoun
Wherynne lay my salvacioun.
And Daimger toke kepe, if that I
Kepe hym covenaunt trewely.
So sore I dradde his manasyng
I durst not 1 is biddyng,

For lest that I were of hym shent
I brake not his comaundement,
to purchase his good wille.

j iorto come ther-tille,
to ferre bihynde ;
I wepfe Jot 1 r:* ,t it fynde.

.lied sore,

; more,
wr over goo

;d SOO.

ng outerly
•.vlege certanly,}
• ••-'• M*« i.n sich a wise

&W 5 b<:r WM no fcyntise,

YM OT^tfie'
ve,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Of disdeyne, and cruelte,
On me ne wolde have pite
His cruel will forto refreyne,
Though I wepe alwey and me com-

pleyne.

And while I was in this torment,
Were come of grace, by god sent,
Fraunchise and with hir Pite.
Fulfild the bothen of bounte,
They go to Daunger anoon-right,
To forther me with all her myght,
And helpe in worde and in dede ;
For well they saugh that it was nede.
First of hir grace dame Fraunchise

If Love hath caught hym in his lace
You for tobeye in every caas,
And ben youre suget at youre will,
Shuld ye therfore willen hym ill ?
Ye shulde hym spare more all oute
Than hym that is bothe proude and

stoute.

Curtesie wole that ye socour
Hem that ben meke undir youre cure.
His herte is hard that wole not meke,
Whannemenofmekenessehymbiseke."
" That is certeyn," seide Pite,
" We se ofte that humilite
Bothe ire and also felonye

Hath taken [word] of this emprise; Venquyssheth, and also malencolye,
She seide, "Daunger, gret wrong ye do To stonde forth in such duresse,

To worche this man so myche woo,

Or pynen hym so angerly ;

It is to you gret villanye.

I can not see [ne] why ne how

This cruelte and wikkidnesse.
Wherfore I pray you, Sir Daungere,
Forto mayntene no lenger heere
Such cruel werre agayn youre man,

That he hath trespassed ageyn you, As hoolly youres as ever he can ;
Save that he loveth ; wherforeye shulde Nor that ye worchen no more woo
The more in cherete of hym holde. On this cay tif that langwisshith soo,

The force of love makith hym do this ; Which wole no more to you trespasse,
Who wolde hym blame, he dide amys. But putte hym hoolly in youre grace.
He leseth more than ye may do ; His offense ne was but lite ;

His peyne is harde, ye may see lo, The god of Love it was to wite,

,And Love in no wise wolde consente That he youre thrall so gretly is ;
That he have power to repente. And if ye harme hym, ye done amys.

Forthoughthatquykye woldehymsloo, For he hath hadde full hard penaunce,

Fro love his herte may not goo.
Now, swete Sir, is it youre ese
Hym forto angre or disese ?
Alias, what may it you avaunce
To done to hym so gret grevaunce ?
What worship is it agayn hym take,
Or on youre man a werre make,
Sith he so lowly every wise
Is redy, as ye lust devise ?

Sith that ye refte hym thaqueyntaunce
Of Bialacoil, his moste joye,
Which alle hise peynes myght acoye.
He was biforn anoyed sore,
But thanne ye doubled hem well more.
For he of blis hath ben full bare,
Sith Bialacoil was fro hym fare.
Love hath to hym do gret distresse,
He hath no nede of more duresse ;

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Voideth from hym youre ire, I rede,
Ye may not wynnen in this dede.
Makith Bialacoil repeire ageyn,
And haveth pite upon his peyne ;
For Fraunchise wole and I, Pite,
That mercyful to hym ye be.
And sith that she and I accorde
Have upon hym misericorde,
For I you pray and eke moneste
Nought to refusen oure requeste.
For he is hard and fell of thought,

Than Fraunchise hath him sent to me
Bialacoil at the begynnyng,
Salued me in his commyng ;
No straungenesse was in him sene,
No more than he ne had wrathed bene.
As fayre semblaunt than shewed he me,
And goodly, as aforne dyd he.
And by the honde withoute doute,
Within the haye right al aboute
He ladde me with right good chere,
Al envyron the vergere

That for us twoo wole dorightnought." That Daunger hadde me chased fro.

Daunger ne myght no more endure,
He mekede hym unto mesure.
"I wole in no wise," seith Daungere,
"Denye that ye have asked heere,
It were to gret uncurtesie ;
I wole he have the companye
Of Bialacoil, as ye devise ;
I wole hym lette in no wise."
To Bialacoil thanne wente in hye
Fraunchise, and seide full curteislye :
"Ye have to longe be deignous
Unto this lover and daungerous,

Nowe have I leave over al to go,
Nowe am I raysed at my devyse
Fro helle unto paradyse.
Thus Bialacoil of gentylnesse,
With al his payne and besynesse,
Hath shewed me onely of grace
The estres of the swote place.

I sawe the Rose whan I was nygh
Was greatter woxen and more high,
Fresshe, roddy, and fayre of hewe,
Of coloure veer yliche newe.
And whan I hadde it longe sene,

Fro hym to withdrawe your presence, I sawe that through the leves grene
Whiche hath do to him great offence, The Rose spredde to spaunysshinge,

That ye not wolde upon him se ;
Wherfore a sorouful man is he.
Shape ye to paye him, and to please,
Of my love if ye wol have ease ;
Fulfyl his wyl, sithe that ye knowe

To sene it was a goodly thynge.
But it ne was so sprede on brede
That men within myght knowe the sede
For it covert was and close
Bothe with the leves and with the rose.

Daunger is daunted and brought lowe The stalke was even and grene upright,

Through helpe of me and of Pyte
You dare no more aferde be."

"I shal do right as ye wyl."
Saith Bialacoil, "for it is skyl,
Sithe Daunger wol that it so be.'

It was theron a goodly syght,

And wel the better, withoute wene,

For the seed was nat [y-]sene.

Ful fayre it spradde (God it blesse),

For suche another, as I gesse,

Aforne ne was, ne more vermayle.

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

I was abawed for marveyle,

For ever the fayrer that it was,

The more I am bounde in Loves laas.

Longe I abode there, sothe to sayc,

Tyl Bialacoil I ganne to praye,

Whan that I sawe him, in no wyse

To me warnen his servyce,

That he me wolde graunt a thynge,

Whiche to remembre is wel syttynge.

This is to sayne, that of his grace

He wolde me yeve leysar and space,

To me that was so desyrous

To have a kyssynge precious

Of the goodly fresshe Rose,

That so swetely smelleth in my nose.

"For if it you displeased nought

I wolde gladly, as I have sought,

Have a cosse therof freely

Of your yefte ; for certainly

I wol none have, but by your leve,

So lothe me were you for to greve."

He sayde, "Frende, so god me spede,
Of Chastite I have suche drede,
Thou shuldest nat warned be for me ;
But I dare nat for Chastyte.
Agayne her dare I nat mysdo,
For alwaye byddeth she me so
To yeve no lover leave to kysse.

I hadde suche drede to greve him aye.
A man shulde nat to moche assaye
To chafe hys frende out of measure,
Nor putte his lyfe in aventure.
For no man at the firste stroke
Ne maye nat felle downe an oke,
Nor of the reysyns have the wyne,
Tyl grapes be rype, and wel afyne
Be sore empressid, I you ensure,
And drawen out of the pressure.
But I forpeyned wonder stronge,
Though that I aboode right longe
Aftir the kis in peyne and woo,
Sith I to kis desired soo ;
Till that, rewyng on my distresse,
Ther come Venus the goddesse,
Which ay werreyeth Chastite,
Came of hir grace to socoure me,
Whos myght is knowe ferre and wide ;
For she is modir of Cupide,
The god of love, blynde as stoon,
That helpith lovers many oon.
This lady brought in hir right honde
Of brennyng fyre a blasyng bronde,
Wherof the flawme and hoote fire
Hath many a lady in desire
Of love brought, and sore hette,
And in hir servise her hertes sette.
This lady was of good entaile,

For who therto maye wynne y-wisse, Right wondirfull of apparayle ;

He of the surplus of the praye

Bi hir atyre so bright and shene

May lyve in hoope to gette some daye. Men myght perceyve well and sene
For who so kyssynge maye attayne She was not of religioun.

Nor I nell make mencioun
Nor of robe nor of tresour,
Of broche nor of hir riche attour,
Ne of hir girdill aboute hir side,

3f loves payne hath, soth to sayne,
The best and [the] most avenaunt,
\nd ernest of the remenaunt."

Df his answere I sighed sore;
durst assaye him tho no more,

For that I nyll not longe abide.
But knowith wel that certeynly
49 c

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

She was araied richely ; Thar no man aske if I was blithe

Devoyde of pruyde certeyn she was. Whanne the savour soft and lythe

To Bialacoil she wente apas, Stroke to myn herte withoute more,

And to hym, shortly in a clause, And me alegged of my sore,

She seide, "Sir, what is the cause So was I full of joye and blisse.

Ye ben of port so daungerous It is faire sich a flour to kisse ;

Unto this lover and deynous, It was so swoote and saverous.

To graunte hym nothyng but a kisse. I myght not be so angwisshous,

To werne it hym ye done amysse, That I [ne] mote glad and joly be,

Sith well ye wote how that he Whanne that I remembre me.

Is loves servaunt, as ye may see, Yit ever among, sothly to seyne,

And hath beaute, wher-through is I suffre noye and moche peyne.

Worthy of love to have the blis. The see may never be so stille,

How he is semely, biholde and see That with a litel wynde it nylle

How he is faire, how he is free, Overwhelme and turne also,

How he is swoote and debonaire, As it were woode in wawis goo.

Of age yonge, lusty and faire. Aftir the calme, the trouble soone

Ther is no lady so hawteyne, Motefolowe,andchaungeasthemoone

Duchesse ne countesse, ne chasteleyne, Right so farith Love, that selde in ooni

That I nolde holde hir ungoodly Holdith his anker : for right anoon,

Forto refuse hym outterly. Whanne they in ese wene beste to
His breth is also good and swete, tyve,

And eke his lippis rody, and mete They ben with tempest all fordryve.

Oonly to pleyen and to kisse ; Who serveth love can telle of woo ;

Graunte hym a kis of gentilnysse. The stoundemele joie mote overgoo ;

His teth arn also white and clene. Now he hurteth and now he cureth,
Methenkith [it] wrong, withouten wene, For selde in oo poynt love endureth.
If ye now werne hym, trustith me,

To graunte that a kis have he. Now is it right me to precede

The lasse to helpe hym that ye haste, How Shame gan medle, and take hedej

The more tyme shul ye waste." Thurgh whom fele angres I have hadde,

Whanne the flawme of the verrybronde, And how the stronge wall was maad,

That Venus brought in hir right honde, And the castell of brede and lengthe,

Hadde Bialacoil with hete smete, That God of Love wanne with his
Anoon he bade me withouten lette, strengthe.

Grauntede to me the Rose kisse. All this in Romance will I sette,

Thanne of my peyne I gan to lysse, And for no thyng ne will I lette,

And to the Rose anoon wente I, So that it lykyng to hir be

And kisside it full feithfully. That is the flour of beaute.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

For she may best my labour quyte, I have right gret, for it is nede ;

That I for hir love shal endite. It is well shewed by the dede.

Crete faute in thee now have I founde ;

Wikkid-Tunge, that the covyne By God, anoon thou shalt be bounde,

Of every lover can devyne And faste loken in a tour,

Worste, and addith more somdell Withoute refuyt or socour.

(For wikkid tunge seith never well), For Shame to longe hath be thee froo ;

To-me-ward bare he right gret hate, Over soone she was agoo.

Espiyng me erly and late, Whanne thou hast lost bothe drede and
Till he hath sene the grete chcre feere,

Of Bialacoil and me I-feere. It semede wel she was not heere.

He myghte not his tunge withstonde She was bisy in no wyse

Worse to reporte than he fonde, To kepe thee and [to] chastise,

He was so full of cursed rage ; And forto helpen Chastite

It satte hym well of his lynage, To kepe the roser, as thenkith me.

For hym an Irish womman bare. For thanne this boy knave so booldely

His tunge was fyled sharpe and square, Ne shulde not have be hardy,

Poign[i]aunt, and right kervyng, [Ne] in this verger hadde such game,

And wonder bitter in spekyng. Which nowmeturnethto gret shame."

For whanne that he me gan espie, Bialacoil nyst what to sey ;

He swoore, affermyng sikirlye, Full fayn he wolde have fled awey,

Bitwene Bialacoil and me For feere han hidde, nere that he

Was yvel aquayntaunce and pryve. All sodeynly toke hym with me.

He spake therof so folilye, And whanne I saugh he hadde soo,

That he awakide lelousye, This lelousie, take us twoo,

Which all afrayed in his risyng, I was a-stoned, and knewe no rede,

Whanne that he herd [him] janglyng, But fledde awey for verrey drede.

He ran anoon as he were woode Thanne Shame cam forth full symplely.

To Bialacoil there that he stode ; She wende have trespaced full gretly,

Which hadde lever in this caas Humbleof hir port, and made it symple,

Have ben at Reynes or Amyas. Weryng a vayle in stede of wymple,

For foot-hoot in his felonye, As nonnys don in her abbey.

To hym thus seide lelousie : By cause hir herte was in affray,

" Why hast thou ben so necligent She gan to speke withynne a throwe

To kepen, whanne I was absent, To lelousie right wonder lowe.

This verger heere left in thi warde. First of his grace she bysoughte

To me thou haddist no rewarde, And seide, " Sire, ne leveth noughte

To truste, to thy confusioun, Wikkid-Tunge, that false espie,

Hym thus, to whom suspeccioun Which is so glad to feyne and lye.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

He hath you maad, thurgh flateryng,

On Bialacoil a fals lesyng ;

His falsnesse is not now a-newe,

It is to long that he hym knewe ;

This is not the firste day,

For Wikkid-Tunge hath custome ay

Yonge folkis to bewreye,

And false lesynges on hem leye.

Yit nevertheles I see amonge

That the loigne it is so longe

Of Bialacoil, hertis to lure

In Loves servyse forto endure,

Drawyng such folk hym too,

That he hath no thyng with to doo.

But in sothnesse I trowe nought

That Bialacoil hadde ever in thought

To do trespace or vylonye.

But for his modir Curtesie

Hath taught hym ever to be

Good of aqueyntaunce and pryve.

For he loveth noon hevynesse,

But mirthe,and pley,and all gladnesse ;

He hateth all trechours,

Soleyn folk and envyou[r]s ;

For ye witen how that he

Wole ever glad and joyfull be,

Honestly with folk to pleye.

I have be negligent in good feye

To chastise hym ; therfore now I,

Of herte I crye you heere mercy

That I have been so recheles

To tamen hym, withouten lees.

Of my foly I me repente.

Now wole I hoole sette myn entente

To kepe, bothe low[d]e and stille,

Bialacoil to do youre wille."

" Shame, shame," seyde lelousie,

" To be bytrasshed gret drede have I ;

Leccherie hath clombe so hye,

That almoost blered is myn ye :
No wonder is if that drede have I ;
Over all regnyth Lecchery,
Whos myght growith nyght and day
Bothe in cloistre and in abbey ;
Chastite is werried over all,
Therfore I wole with siker wall
Close bothe roses and roser.
I have to longe in this maner
Left hem unclosid wilfully ;
Wherfore I am right inwardly
Sorowfull, and repente me.
But now they shall no lenger be
Unclosid, and yit I drede sore
I shall repente ferthermore ;
For the game goth all amys,
Counsell I must newe y-wys.
I have to longe tristed thee,
But now it shal no lenger be ;
For he may best in every cost
Disceyve that men tristen most.
I see wel that I am nygh shent,
But if I sette my full entent
Remedye to purveye.
Therfore close I shall the weye,
Fro hem that wole the Rose espie,
And come to wayte me vilonye.
For in good feith and in trouthe,
I wole not lette for no slouthe,
To lyve the more in sikirnesse,
To make anoon a fort[e]resse,
Tenclose the roses of good savour.
In myddis shall I make a tour,
To putte Bialacoil in prisoun ;
For evere I drede me of tresoun.
I trowe I shal hym kepe soo
That he shal have no myght to goo
Aboute, to make companye
To hem that thenke of vylanye ;

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

Ne to no such as hath ben heere

Aforn, and founde in hym good chere

Which han assailed hym to shende,

And with her trowandyse to blynde.

A foole is eythe to bigyle ;

But, may I lyve a lite! while,

He shal forthenke his fair semblaunt.'

He hath to us do gret wronge,
That hath suffred now so longe
Bialacoil to have his wille,
All his lustes to fulfille.
He must amende it utterly,
Or ellys shall he vilaynesly
Exiled be out of this londe ;

For he the werre may not withstonde

Andwith that word came DREDE avaunt, Of lelousie, nor the greef,
Which was abasshed and in gret fere. Sith Bialacoil is at myscheef."
Whanne he wiste lelousie was there, To Daunger, Shame and Drede anoon

He was for drede in sich affray,
That not a word durst he say,
But quakyng stode full still aloone,
Til lelousie his weye was gone,
Save Shame, that him not forsoke.
Bothe Drede and she ful sore quoke,
Than atte laste Drede abreyde,
And to his cosyn Shame seide :
" Shame," he seide, " in sothfastnesse,
To me it is gret hevynesse
That the noyse so ferre is go,
And the sclaundre of us twoo ;
But sithe that it is byfall,
We may it not ageyn call
Whanne onys sprongen is a fame.
For many a yeer withouten blame
We han ben, and many a day ;
For many an Aprill and many a May
We han passed not [a-] shamed,
Till lelousie hath us blamed
Of mystrust and suspecioun,
Causeles, withoute enchesoun.

The righte weye ben goon.
The cherle thei founden hem aforn
Liggyng undir an hawethorn ;
Undir his heed no pilowe was,
But in the stede a trusse of gras.
He slombred, and a nappe he toke,
Tyll Shame pitously hym shoke,
And grete manace on hym gan make.
" Why slepist thou, whanne thou

shulde wake ? "
Quod Shame. "Thou doist us

vylanye ;

Who tristith thee, he doth folye,
To kepe roses or bothouns
Whanne thei ben faire in her sesouns.
Thou art woxe to familiere,
Where thou shulde be straunge of

chere,

Stoute of thi porte, redy to greve.
Thou doist gret folye forto leve
Bialacoil here inne to calle
The yonder man, to shende us alle.
Though that thou slepe, we may here
Of lelousie gret noyse heere.
Art thou now late ? Rise up an high,

Go we to Daunger hastily,
And late us shewe hym openly
That he hath not aright [y-] wrought,

Whanne thathesettenoughthisthought And stoppe sone, and delyverly,
To kepe better the purprise. All the gappis of the hay ;

In his doyng he is not wise ; Do no favour, I thee pray.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

It fallith no thyng to thy name

To make faire semblaunt, where thou

maist blame.

Yf Bialacoil be sweete and free,
Dogged and fell thou shuldist be,
Froward and outerageous y-wis.
A cherl chaungeth that curteis is.
This have I herd ofte in seiyng,
" That man may, for no dauntyng,
Make a sperhauke of a bosarde."
Alle men wole holde thee for musarde
That debonair have founden thee.
It sittith thee nought curteis to be,
To do men plesaunce or servise ;
In thee it is recreaundise.
Lete thi werkis fer and nere
Be like thi name, which is Daungere."

Thanne, all abawid in shewing,

With that the cherl his clubbe gan

shake,

Frounyng his eyen gan to make,
And hidous chere ; as man in rage
For ire he brente in his visage.
Whannethat [he] herd hym blamed soo,
He seide, "Oute of my witte I goo ;
To be discomfyt I have gret wronge.
Certis I have now lyved to longe,
Sith I may not this roser kepe.
All quykke I wolde be dolven deepe
If ony man shal more repeire
Into this gardyne, for foule or faire.
Myne herte for ire goth a-fere
That I lete ony entre heere.
I have do folie, now I see ;
But now it shall amended bee.
Who settith foot heere ony more,
Truly he shall repente it sore,

Anoon spake Drede right thus seiyng, For no man moo into this place

And seide, " Daungere, I drede me
That thou ne wolt bisy be
To kepe that thou hast to kepe ;
Whanne thou shuldist wake thou art

a slepe.

Thou shalt be greved certeynly,
If the aspie lelousie,
Or if he fynde thee to blame.
He hath to day assailed Shame
And chased awey, with gret manace,
Bialacoil oute of this place,
And swereth shortly that he shall
Enclose hym in a sturdy wall ;
And all is for thi wikkidnesse,
For that thee faileth straungenesse.
Thyne herte I trowe be failed all.
Thou shalt repente in speciall,
If lelousie the sooth knewe ;
Thou shalt forthenke and sore rewe."

Of me to entre shal have grace.
Lever I hadde with swerdis tweyne
Thurghoute myne herte in every veyne
Perced to be with many a wounde,
Thanne slouthe shulde in me be founde.
From hennes forth, by nyght or day,
I shall defende it, if I may,
Withouten ony excepcioun
Of ech maner condicioun.
And if I it eny man graunte,
Holdeth me for recreaunte."

Thanne Daungeronhis feet gan stonde,
And hente a burdoun in his honde.
Wroth in his ire, ne lefte he nought
But thurgh the verger he hath sought ;
If he myght fynde hole or trace,
Where-thurgh that me mote forth by
pace,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Or ony gappe, he dide it close,
That no man myghte touche a rose.
Of the roser all aboute
He shitteth every man withoutc.
Thus day by day Daunger is wers,
More wondirfull, and more dyvers,
And feller eke than evere he was.
For hym full ofte I synge "alias,"
For I ne may nought, thurgh his ire,
Recovere that I moost desire.
Myne herte, alias, wole brest a-twoo,
For Bialacoil I wratthed soo ;
For certeynly in every membre
I quake whanne I me remembre
Of the bothon which I wolde
Full ofte a day scne and biholde.
And whanne I thenke upon the kisse,
And how mych joye and blisse
I hadde thurgh the savour swete,
For wante of it I grone and grete.
Me thenkith I fele yit in my nose
The swete savour of the rose.
And now I woot that I mote goo
So fer the freshe floures froo,
To me full welcome were the deth.
Absens therof alias me sleeth.
For whilom with this Rose, alias,
I touched nose, mouth, and face ;
But now the deth I must abide.
But love consente another tyde
That onys I touche may and kisse,
[ trowe my peyne shall never lisse.
Fheron is all my coveitise,

For I am fallen into helle
From paradys, and wel the more
My turment greveth more and more.
Anoieth now the bittirnessc,
That I to forn have felt swetnesse.
And Wikkid-Tunge thurgh hisfalshede
Causeth all my woo and drede.
On me he leieth a pitous charge,
Bi-cause his tunge was to large.

Now it is tyme shortly that I
Telle you som-thyng of lelousie,
That was in gret suspecioun.
Aboute hym lefte he no masoun,
That stoon coude leye, ne querrour ;
He hirede hem to make a tour.
And first, the roses forto kepe,
Aboute hem made he a diche deepe,
Right wondir large, and also broode.
Upon the whiche also stode
Of squared stoon a sturdy wall,
Which on a cragge was founded all.
And right grete thikkenesse eke it bare
Abouten it was founded square,
An hundred fademe on every side.
It was aliche longe and wide ;
Lest ony tyme it were assayled,
Ful wel aboute it was batayled,
And rounde enviroun eke were sette
Ful many a riche and faire tourette.
At every corner of this wall
Was sette a tour full pryncipall,
And everich hadde, withoute fable,

Which brent myn herte in many wise. A porte-colys defensable

Now shal repaire agayn sighinge, To kepe of enemyes, and to greve

Long wacche on nyghtis, and no slepinge, That there her force wolde preve.

Thought in wisshing, torment and woo, And eke amydde this purprise

vVith many a turnyng to and froo. Was maad a tour of gret maistrise ;

That half my peyne I can not telle, A fairer saugh no man with sight,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Large, and wide, and of gret myght. That other gate kepte Shame,

They dredde noon assaut Which openede, as it was couth,

Of gynne, gunne, nor skaffaut. Toward the part[i]e of the south.

The temprure of the mortere Sergeauntes assigned were hir too

Was maad of lycour wonder dere, Ful many, hir wille forto doo.

Of quykke lyme, persant and egre, Thannc Drede hadde in hir baillie

The which was tempred with vynegre. The kepyng of the Conestablerye,

The stoon was hard of ademant, Toward the north I undirstonde,

Wherof they made the foundement. That openyde upon the lyfte honde.

The tour was rounde, maad in compas ; The which for no thyng may be sure

In all this world no riccher was, But if she do bisy cure,

Ne better ordeigned therwith-all. Erly on morowe and also late,

Aboute the tour was maad a wall, Strongly to shette and barre the gate.

So that bitwixt that and the tour Of every thing that she may see

Rosers were sette of swete savour Drede is aferd, wher so she be ;

With many roses that thei here. For with a puff of litell wynde

And eke withynne the castell were Drede is a-stonyed in hir mynde.

Spryngoldes, gunnes, bows and archers, Therfore for stelyng of the Rose

And eke aboven atte corners I rede hir nought the yate unclose ;

Men seyn over the walle stonde A foulis flight wole make hir flee,

Crete engynes, who were nygh honde. And eke a shadowe if she it see.
And in the kernels heere and there

Of Arblasters grete plente were ; Thanne Wikked-Tunge, full of envye,

Noon armure myght her stroke with- With soudiours of Normandye,

stonde, As he that causeth all the bate,

It were foly to prece to honde. Was keper of the fourthe gate.

Withoute the diche were lystes maade And also to the tother three

With wall batayled large and brade, He wente full ofte forto see.

For men and hors shulde not atteyne Whanne his lotte was to wake anyght

To neighe the dyche over the pleyne. His instrumentis wolde he dight

Thus lelousie hath enviroun Forto blowe and make sowne

Sette aboute his garnysoun, (Ofte thanne he hath enchesoun)

With walles rounde and diche depe, And walken oft upon the wall,

Oonly the roser forto kepe. Corners and wikettis over all

And Daunger bere erly and late Full narwe serchen and espie.

The keyes of the utter gate, Thoughhenoughtfonde,yitwolehely

The whiche openeth toward the eest. Discordaunt ever fro armonye,

And he hadde with hym atte leest And distoned from melodic.

Thritty servauntes, echon by name. Controve he wolde, and foule fayle

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

With hornepipes of Cornewaile;
In floytes made he discordaunce.
And in his musyk with myschaunce,
He wolde seyn with notes newe
That he fonde no womman trewe,
Ne that he saugh never in his lyf
Unto hir husbonde a trewe wyf ;
Ne noon so ful of honeste,
That she nyl laughe and mery be
Whanne that she hereth, or may espie,
A man speken of leccherie.
Everiche of hem hath somme vice;
Oon is dishonest, another is nyce ;
If oon be full of vylanye,
Another hath a likerous ighe ;
If oon be full of wantonesse,
Another is a chideresse.

Thus Wikked Tunge (god yeve hem

shame)

Can putt hem everychone in blame
Withoute desert, and causeles.
He lieth, though they ben giltles.
I have pite to sene the sorwe
That waketh bothe eve and morwe,
To Innocentis doith such grevaunce.
I pray god yeve hym evel chaunce,
That he ever so bisie is
Of ony womman to seyn amys.
Eke lelousie God confounde,
That hath maad a tour so rounde,
And made aboute a garisoun
To sette Bealacoil in prisoun,
The which is shette there in the tour
Ful longe to holde there sojour,
There forto lyven in penaunce.
And forto do hym more grevaunce
Ther hath ordeyned lelousie
An olde vekke forto espye

The maner of his governaunce.

The whiche devel in hir enfaunce

Hadde lerned of loves arte,

And of his pleyes toke hir parte.

She was expert in his servise,

She knewe eche wrenche and every[gise

Of love, and every wile;

It was [the] harder hir to gile.

Of Bealacoil she toke ay hede,

That evere he ly veth in woo and drede.

He kepte hym koy and eye pryvc,

Lest in hym she hadde see

Ony foly countenaunce ;

For she knewe all the olde daunce.

And aftir this, whanne lelousie

Hadde Bealacoil in his baillie,

And shette hym up that was so fre ;

For seure of hym he wolde be.

He trusteth sore in his castell,

The stronge werk hym liketh well.

He dradde not that no glotouns

Shulde stele his roses or bothouns.

The roses weren assured all,

Defenced with the stronge wall.

Now lelousie full well may be

Of drede devoide in liberte,

Whether that he slepe or wake,

For his roses may noon be take.

But I alias now morne shall
Bi-cause I was withoute the wall.
Full moche doole and moone I made.
Who hadde wist what woo I hadde,
I trowc he wolde have had pite.
Love to deere hadde soolde to me
The good, that of his love hadde I.
I wente a bought it all queyntly,
But now, thurgh doubly ng of my peyne,
I see he wolde it selle ageyne,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And me a newe bargeyn leere,
The which all-oute the more is deere
For the solace that I have lorn,
Thanne I hadde it never aforn.
Certayn I am ful like in deede
To hym that caste in erthe his seede,
And hath joie of the newe spryng,
Whanne it greneth in the gynnyng,
And is also faire and fresh of flour,
Lusty to seen, swoote of odour,
But er he it in sheves shere,

A foole is he that wole hir trust.
For it is I that am come down
Thurgh change and revolucioun.
Sith Bealacoil mote fro me twynne,
Shette in the prisoun yonde withynne,
His absence at myn herte I fele.
For all my joy e and all myne hele
Was in hym and in the rose,
That but y on walle, which hym doth close
Opene that I may hym see,
Love nyl not that I cured be

May falle a weder that shal it dere, Of the peynes that I endure,

And maken it to fade and falle,

Nor of my cruel aventure.

The stalke, the greyne, and floures alle, A, Bialacoil, myn owne deere,

That chaungeth ofte, and nyl contune ; To venge thee atte leest in thought,

Which whilom wole on folkes smyle, If other way thou mai[e]st nought ;

And glowmbe on hem another while ; And in this wise sotilly

Now freend, now foo,shaltowhir feele. Worche and wynne the maistric.

For [in] a twynklyng, turnehir wheele, But yit I am in gret affray

She can writhe hir heed awey ;
This is the concours of hir pley.
She canne arise that doth morne,
And whirle adown, and over turne.

Lest thou do not as I say ;
I drede thou canst me gret maugre
That thou enprisoned art for me.
But that [is] not for my trespas,

Who sittith hieghst, but as hir lust ? For thurgh me never discovred was

"A, BIALACOIL, MYN OWNE DEERE"

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And me a ncwe bargeyn leere,
The which all-oute the more is deere
For the solace that I have lorn,
Thanne I hadde it never aforn.
Certayn I am ful like in deede
To hym that caste in erthe his seede,
And hath joie of the newe spryng,
Whanne it greneth in the gynnyng,
And is also faire and fresh of flour,
Lusty to seen, swoote of odour,
But er he it in sheves shere,
May falle a weder that shal it dere,
And maken it to fade and falle,

A foole is he that wole hir
For it is I that an down

Thurgh ch ucioun.

Sith Be :ie twynne

Shette in the prisoun yonde withynne,!
His absence at myn herte I fele.
For all my joye and all myne hele
Was in hym and in the rose,
Thatbutyonwalle,whichhymdothcloJ
Opene that I may hym see,
Love nyl not that I cured be
Of the peynes that I endure,
Nor of my cruel aventure.

The stalke, the greyne, and floures alle, A, Bialacoil, myn owne deere,

That to the tylyer is fordone
The hope that he hadde to soone.
I drede certeyn that so fare I ;
For hope and travaile sikerlye
Ben me byraft all with a storme ;
The floure nel seeden of my corne.
For Love hath so avaunced me
Whanne I bigan my pryvite
To Bialacoil all forto telle,
Whom I ne fonde fro ward ne felle,
But toke a gree all hool my play.
But Love is of so hard assay,
That all at oonys he reved me,
Whanne I wente best aboven have be.
It is of love as of fortune,
That chaungeth ofte, and nyl contune ;
Which whilom wole on folkes smyle,
And glowmbe on hem another while;
Now frecnd, now foo^haltowhir feele.
For[inJatwynkJyng,turf»ehirwheele,
She can writhe hir heed awey ;
This is the concours of hir pley.
She cannc arise that doth morne,
And whirle adown,
Who sittith hieghst, but as hir lust?

Though thou be now a prisonere,
Kepe atte leste thyne herte to me,
And suffre not that it daunted be ;
Ne late not lelousie in his rage
Putten thine herte in no servage.
Al though he chastice thee withoute
And make thy body unto hym loute^i
Have herte as hard as dyamaunt,
Stedefast, and nought pliaunt ;
In prisoun though thi body be,
At large kepe thyne herte free.
A trewe herte wole not plie,
For no manace that it may drye.
If lelousie doth thee payne,
Quyte hym his while thus agayne
To venge thee atte leest in thought,
If other way thou mai[e]st nought;
And in this wise sotilly
Worche and wynne the maistrie.
But yit I am in gret affray
Lest thou do not as I say ;
I drede thou canst me gret maugre
That thou enprisoned art for me.
MEM ^P3AJAJ9 f<fc'my trespas,
For thurgh me never discovred was

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That thyng that oughte be secree. And be to me curteis and sweete?

Wei more anoye is in me She is in no thyng full certeyne.

Than is in thee of this myschaunce, Lovers she putt in full gret peyne,

For I endure more harde penaunce And makith hem with woo to deele ;

Than ony [man] can seyn or thynke ; Hir faire biheeste disceyveth feele.

That for the sorwe almost I synke. For she wole byhote sikirly,

Whanne I remembre me of my woo, And failen aftir outrely.

Full nygh out of my witt I goo. A, that is a full noyous thyng !

Inward myn herte I feele blede ; For many a lover in lovyng

For comfortles the deth I drede. Hangeth upon hir, and trusteth fast,

Owe I not wel to have distresse Whiche leese her travel at the last.

Whanne false thurgh hir wikkednesse Ofthyngtocomenshewootrightnought ;

And traitours, that arn envyous, Therfore if it be wysely sought,

To noyen me be so curious ? Hir counseill foly is to take.

A, Bialacoil, full wel I see For many tymeswhanne she wole make

That they hem shape to disceyve thee, A full good silogisme, I dreede

To make thee buxom to her lawe, That aftirward ther shal in deede

And with her corde thee to drawe Folwe an evell conclusioun.

Where so hem lust, right at her wille ; This putte me in confusioun ;

I drede they have thee brought thertille. For many tymes I have it seen

Withoute comfort thought me sleeth, That many have bigyled been

This game wole bryngemetomydeeth ; For trust that they have sette in hope,

For if youre good[e] wille I leese, Which felle hem aftirward a-slope.

I mote be deed, I may not chese ; But nevertheles yit gladly she wolde

And if that thou foryete me, That he, that wole hymwith hir holde,

Myne herte shal nevere in likyng be, Hadde alle tymes his purpos clere,

Nor elles where fynde solace, Withoute decey te or ony were ;

If I be putt out of youre grace, That she desircth sikirly.

As it shal never been, I hope. Whanne I hir blamed, I dide foly.

Thannc shulde I fallen in wanhope. But what avayleth hir good wille ?

Alias — in wanhope ? nay pardee, Whanne she ne may staunche my
For I wole never dispeired be. stounde ille,

If hope me faile, thanne am I That helpith litel that she may doo,

Ungracious and unworthy. Outake biheest unto my woo.

In hope I wole comforted be, And heeste certeyn, in no wise

For Love, whanne he bitaught hir me, Withoute yift is not to prise.

Seide that Hope, where so I goo, Whanne heest and deede a-sundry varie,

Shulde ay be reles to my woo. They doon a gret contrarie.

But what and she my baalis beete, Thus am I possed up and doun

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

With dool, thought, and confusioun ; By cause the tour is so stronge

Of my disese ther is no noumbre.
Daunger and Shame me encumbre,
Drede also, and lelousie,
And Wikked-Tunge full of envie,
Of whiche the sharpe and cruel ire
Full ofte me putte in gret martire.
They han my joye fully lette,
Sith Bialacoil they have bishette
Fro me in prisoun wikkidly,
Whom I love so entierly
That it wole my bane bee
But I the sonner may hym see.
And yit more over, wurst of all,

Howshuldeheoute? Bywhosprowesse,
Oute of so stronge a forteresse ?
By me certeyn it nyl be doo ;
God woot I have no witte therto.
But wel I woot I was in rage,
Whonne I to Love dide homage.
Who was the cause, in sothfastnesse,
But hir-silf Dame Idelnesse,
Which me conveied, thurgh my praiere,
To entre into that faire verger ?
She was to blame me to leve,
The which now doth me score greve.
A foolis word is nought to trowe,

Ther is sette to kepe (foule hir bifall !) Ne worth an appel forto love.
A rympled vekke, ferre ronne in age, Men shulde hym snybbe bittirly
Frownyng and yelowe in hir visage, At pryme temps of his foly.

Which in a-wayte lyth day and nyght,
That noon of hym may have a sight.
Now mote my sorwe enforced be ;
Full soth it is that Love yaf me
Three wonder yiftes, of his grace,
Whiche I have lorn now in this place,
Sith they ne may, withoute drede,
Helpen but lytel, who taketh heede.
For here availeth no Swete-Thought,
And Sweete-Speche helpith right

nought ;

The thridde was called Swete-Lokyng,
That now is lorn without lesyng.
Yiftes were faire, but not forthy
They helpe me but symplely
But Bialacoil loosed be,
To gon at large and to be free.
For hym my lyf lyth all in doute,
But if he come the rather oute.
Alias, I trowe it wole not bene !

I was a fool and she me leevede,
Thurgh whom I am right nought

releeved ;

She accomplisshid all my wille,
That now me greveth wondir ille.
Resoun me seide what shulde falle.
A fool my silf I may wel calle
That love asyde I hadde not leyde,
And trowed that dame Resoun seide.
Resoun hadde bothe skile and ryght,
Whanne she me blamed with all hir

myght

To medle of love that hath me shent ;
But certyn now I wole repente.

And shulde I repente ? Nay, parde,
A fals traitour thanne shulde I be.
The develes engynnes wolde me take,
If I my lorde wolde forsake,
Or Bialacoil falsly bitraye.
For how shult I evermore hym sene ? Shulde I at myscheef hate hym ? Nay,
He may not oute, and that is wronge, Sith he now for his curtesie

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Is in prisoun of lelousie.
Curtesie certeyn dide he me,
So mych that may not yolden be,
Whanne he the hay passen me lete
To kisse the Rose faire and swete ;
Shulde I therfore cunne hym mawgre?
Nay, certeynly, it shal not be;
For Love shall nevere, yif God wille,
Here of me, thurgh word or wille,
Offence or complaynt more or lesse,
Neither of Hope nor Idilnesse.
For certis it were wrong that I
Hated hem for her curtesie.

Whether Lovewolesocoure meorsloo ;
He may do hool on me his wille ;
I am so sore bounde hym tille,
From his servise I may not fleen ;
For lyf and deth, withouten wene,
Is in his hande, I may not chese,
He may me doo bothewynne and leese.
And sith so sore he doth me greve,
Yit if my lust he wolde acheve
To Bialacoil goodly to be,
I yeve no force what felle on me.
For though I dye as I mote nede,
I praye Love of his goodlyhede

Ther is not ellys but suffre and thynke, To Bialacoil do gentylnesse,

And waken whanne I shulde wynke ; For whom I lyve in such distresse,

Abide in hope til Love, thurgh chaunce, That I mote deyen for penaunce.

Sende me socour or allegeaunce,
Expectant ay till I may mete
To geten mercy of that swete.

Whilom I thenke how love to me
Seide he wolde take att gree
My servise, if unpacience
Caused me to done offence.
He seide, "In thank I shal it take,
And high maister eke thee make,
If wikkednesse ne reve it thee;
But, sone, I trowe that shall not be."
These were his wordis by and by ;
It semede he lovede me trewely.

But first withoute repentaunce,
I wole me confesse in good entent,
And make in haste my testament,
As lovers doon that feelen smerte.
To Bialacoil leve I myne herte
All hool withoute departyng,
Or doublenesse of repentyng.

Thus as I made my passage

In compleynt, and in cruel rage,

And I not where to fynde a leche

That couthe unto myne helpyng eche,

Sodeynly agayn comen doun

Out of hir tour I saugh Resoun,

Now is ther not but serve hym wele, Discrete, and wis, and full plesaunt,
If that I thenke his thanke to fele ; And of hir porte full avenaunt.

My good, myne harme lyth hool in me. The righte weye she tooke to me,

In love may no defaute be,
For trewe Love ne failide never man
Sothly the faute mote nedys than,
As god forbede, be founde in me.
And how it cometh, I can not see ;
Now late it goon as it may goo,

Which stode in gret perplexite,
That was posshed in every side,
That I nyst where I myght abide ;
Till she demurely sad of chere,
Seide to me, as she come nere,
; Myne owne freend, art thouy itgreved ?

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

How is this quarell yit acheved
Of Loves side? Anoon me telle.
Hast thou not yit of Love thi fille ?
Art thou not wery of thy servise
That the hath in siche wise?
What joye hast thou in thy lovyng?
Is it swete or bitter thyng ?
Canst thou yit chese, late me see,
What best thi socour myght be ?
Thou servest a full noble lorde,
That makeththee thrall for thi re warde,
Which ay renewith thi turment,
With foly so he hath thee blent.
Thou fell in mycheef thilke day
Whanne thou didist, the sothe to say,
Obeysaunce and eke homage.

Raisoun. "Knowist hym no more ? "
UAmaunt. "Nay, certis, IJ

Save that he yaf me rewles there,
And wente his wey, I nyste where,
And I aboode bounde in balaunce."
Raisoun. "Lo, there a noble coni-

saunce !

But I wille that thou knowe hym now,i
Gynnyng and eende, sith that thou
Art so anguisshous and mate,
Disfigured oute of a-state ;
Ther may no wrecche have more of woo , |
Ne caytyfe noon enduren soo.
It were to every man sittyng
Of his lord have knowleching;
For if thou knewe hym oute of doute, f

Thou wroughtest no-thyng as the sage, Lightly thou shulde escapen oute

Whanne thou bicam his liege man
Thou didist a gret foly than,
Thou wistest not what fell therto,
With what lord thou haddist to do ;
If thou haddist hym wel knowe,
Thou haddist nought be brought so

lowe.

For if thou wistest what it were,
Thou noldist serve hym half a yeer,
Not a weke nor half a day,
Ne yit an hour withoute delay,
Ne never ha lovede paramours.
His lordshipp is so full of shoures,
Knowest hym ought?"

L ' Amaunt.

Of the prisoun that marreth thee."
UAmaunt. "Ye, Dame, sith my lord

is he,

And I his man maad with myn honder
I wolde right fayne undirstonde
To knowen of what kynde he be,
If ony wolde enforme me."

Raisoun. "I wolde," seide Resoun,

" thee lere

Sith thou to lerne hast sich desire,
And shewe thee withouten fable,
A thyng that is not demonstrable.
Thou shalt [wite] withouten science,
And knowe withouten experience,

Raisoun. "Nay, nay.

V Amount. " Yis, I."

Raisoun. " Wherof ? late se.

UAmaunt. " Of that he seide I

shulde be

Glad to have sich lord as he,
And maister of sich seignorie."

Ye, Dame, parde. The thyng that may not knowen be,

Ne wist ne shewid in no degre.
Thou maist the sothe of it not witen,
Though in thee it were writen.
Thou shalt not knowe therof more,
While thou art reuled by his lore.
But unto hym that love wole flee
The knotte may unclosed bee,

SWEET REASON

.itjoye hasi ng?

Is it swete or bitter thyng ?
Canst thou yit chese, late me see,
What best thi socour myght be ?
Thou scrvcst a full noble lorde,
Thatmakcth thee thrall for thi rewarde,
Which ay renewith thi turmcnt,
With foly so he hath thee blent.
Thou fell in mycheef thiike day
Whanne thou didist, the sothe to say,
Obeysaunce and eke homage.
Thou wroughtest mvthyngas the sage,
Whanne thou bicam his liege man ;
Thou didist a gret foly than,
Thou wistcst not what fell therto,
With what lord thou haddist to do ;
If thou haddist hym wel knowe,
Thou haddist nought be brought so

lowe.

For if thou wistest what it were,
Thou ncidist serve hym half a yeer,
Not a wcke nor half a day,
Ne yit an hour withoutc delay,
Ne never ha lovede paramours.
His lordshipp is so full of shoures,
Knowest hym ought ?"

LAmaunt, "Yc, Dame, parde.

Raisoun. uNay, nay."

L Amount. " Yis, I."

Rauomn. "Whcrof? late ac."

LAmtunt. " Of that he stride I

ibukkbe

Glad to have wch lord as he,
And maistcT of »ich seignorie."

THE ROSE

jsoun. " Knowist hym no more ? *

Imaunt. < ay, certis, I.

Save that he yaf me rcwles there,

wente his wey, I nyste where,
And I aboode bounde in balaunce."
Raisoun. "Lo, there a noble coni-

saunce !

But I wille that thou knowe hym now
Gynnyng and eende, sith that thou
Art so anguisshous and mate,
Disfigured oute of a-state ;
Ther may no wrecche have more of woo
Ne caytyfe noon enduren soo.
It were to every man sittyng
Of his lord ha wleching ;

For if thou knewe hym oute of dout
Lightly thou tpen oute

Of the prisoun that marreth thee."
UAmaunt. " Yc, Dame, sith my lot

is he,

And I his man maad with myn hone
I wolde right faync undirstonde
To knowen o? <ynde he be,

If ony wolde Cf me."

Raisoun. **I wolde," scide Reso

" thee \

Sith thou to Jv _st sich desire,

And shevv vithouten fable,

A thy! M not demonstrable.

Thou shalt j v, ttc] withouten science
And knowe wuhouten experience,
The thyng that may not knowen be,
Ne wist nc abcwid in no degre.
Thou maUi the sothe of it not wite
Though in tltee it were writen.
The'.: r knowe therof more,

\VhiU? thi • u rculed by his lore,
that love wole flee
.ay unclosed bee,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Which hath to thee, as it is founde,
So long be knette and not unbounde.
Now sette wel thyne entencioun,
To here of love discripcioun.

Love it is an hatefull pees,

A free acquitaunce withoute relees,

A truthe frette full of falsheede ;

A sikernesse all sette in drede,

In hertis a dispeiryng hope,

And full of hope it is wanhope ;

Wise woodnesse and wode resoun,

A swete perell in to droune,

An hevy birthen lyght to bere ;

A wikked wawe alwey to ware,

It is Karibdous perilous;

Disagreable and gracious ;

It is discordaunce that can accorde,

And accordaunce to discorde ;

It is kunnyng withoute science,

Wisdome withoute sapience,

Witte withoute discrecioun,

Havoire withoute possessioun ;

It is sike hele and hool sekenesse,

A thrust drowned in dronknesse ;

An helthe full of maladie,

And charite full of envie ;

An hunger full of habundaunce,

And a gredy suffisaunce ;

Delite right ful of hevynesse,

And drerihed full of gladnesse;

Bitter swetnesse and swete errour,

light evell savoured good savour ;

'>yn[ne] that pardoun hath withynne,

\nd pardoun spotted oute with synne ;

V peyne also it is joious,

Vnd felonye right pitous ;

Uso pley that selde is stable,

\nd stedefast [stat] right mevable.

A strengthe weyked to stonde upright,

And feblenesse full of myght ;

Witte unavised, sage folie,

And joie full of turmentrie;

A laughter it is, weping ay,

Reste that traveyleth nyght and day ;

Also a swete helle it is,

And a soroufull paradys ;

A plesaunt gayl and esy prisoun,

And, full of froste, [a] somer sesoun,

Pryme temps full of frostes white,

And May devoide of al delite;

With seer braunches blossoms ungrene,

And newe fruy t fillid with wynter tene.

It is a slowe may not forbere

Ragges ribaned with gold to were ;

For also well wole love be sette

Under ragges as riche rochette,

And eke as wel by amourettes

In mournyng blak, as bright burnettes.

For noon is of so mochel pris,

Ne no man founden [is] so wys,

Ne noon so high is of parage,

Ne no man founde of witt so sage,

No man so hardy, ne so wight,

Ne no man of so mychel myght,

Noon so fulfilled of bounte,

That he with love [ne] may daunted be.

All the world holdith this wey,

Love makith all to goon myswey,

But it be they of yvel lyf

Whom Genius cursith man and wyf,

That wrongly werke ageyn nature.

Noon such I love, ne have no cure

Of sich as loves servauntes bene,

And wole not by my counsel flene.

For I ne preise that lovyng,

Wherthurgh men at the laste eendyng

Shall calle hem wrecchis full of woo,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Love greveth hem and shendith soo. It is a sykenesse of the thought,
But if thou wolt wel love eschewe

Annexed and knet bitwixe tweyne
Which male and female with oo cheynej
So frely byndith that they nyll twynne,
Whether so therof they leese or wynne J
The roote springith thurgh hoote

brennyng

Into disordinat desiryng
Forto kissen and enbrace,
And at her lust them to solace ;
Of other thyng love recchith nought

Whanne I hadde herde all Resoun seyne, But setteth her herte and all her thought J
Which hadde spilt hir speche in veyne, More for delectacioun

Forto escape out of his mewe,
And make al hool thi sorwe to slake,
No bettir counsel maist thou take
Than thynke to fleen wel I-wis.
May nought helpe elles ; for wite thou

this:

If thou fle it, it shal flee thee ;
Folowe it, and folowen shal it thee."

"Dame," seide I, "I dar wel sey,
Of this avaunt me wel I may,
That from youre scole so devyaunt
I am, that never the more avaunt
Right nought am I thurgh youre

doctrine.

I dulle under youre discipline,
I wote no more than wist [I] ever ;
To me so contrarie and so fer
Is every thing that ye me lere,
And yit I can it all by par cuer^
Myne herte foryetith therof right

nought,

It is so writen in my thought ;
And depe greven it is so tendir
That all by herte I can it rendre,
And rede it over comunely ;
But to my-silf lewedist am I.
But sith ye love discreven so,
And lak and preise it bothe twoo,
Defyneth it into this letter
That I may thenke on it the better;
For I herde never difryne it ere,
And wilfully I wolde it lere."

Raisoun. " If love be serched wel and
sought,

Than ony procreacioun
Of other fruyt by engendrure ;
(Which love to god is not plesure),
For of her body fruyt to gete
They yeve no force, they are so sette
Upon delite to pley in-feere.
And somme have also this manere,
To feynen hem for love seke.
Sich love I preise not at a leke,
For paramours they do but feyne,
To love truly they disdeyne ;
They falsen ladies traitoursly,
And swerne hem othes utterly,
With many a lesyng and many a fabl
And all they fynden decey vable ;
And whanne they han her lust [y]geten
The hoote ernes they al foryeten.
Wymmen the harme they bien full so
But men this thenken evermore ;
That lasse harme is, so mote I the,
Deceyve them than deceyved be ;
And namely where they ne may
Fynde none other mene wey.
For I wote wel, in sothfastnesse,
What wight doth now his bisyne
With ony womman forto dele

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

For ony lust that he may fele, Though he be croked and unweelde,

But if it be for engendrure, And more of commendacioun

He doth trespasse, I you ensure. Than youthe in his discripcioun,

For he shulde setten all his wille For youthe sette bothe man and wyf

To geten a likly thyng hym tille, In all perell of soule and lyf,

And to sustene, if he myght, And perell is, but men have grace,

And kepe forth, by kyndes right, The perell of yougth[e] forto pace

His owne lyknesse and semblable. Withoute ony deth or distresse,

For because all is corumpable, It is so full of wyldenesse.

And faile shulde successioun, So ofte it doth shame or damage

Ne were ther generacioun To hym, or to his lynage.

Oure sectis strene forto save, It ledith man now up, now doun,

Whanne fader or moder arn in grave, In mochel dissolucioun,

Her children shulde, whanne they ben And makith hym love yvell companye,

deede, And lede his lyf disrewlilye,

Full diligent ben in her steede And halt hym payed with noon estate.

To use that werke on such a wise, Withynne hym-silf is such debate,

That oon may thurgh another rise. He chaungith purpos and entente

Therfore sette Kynde therynne delite; And yalte [him] into somme covente,

For men therynne shulde hem delite, To lyven aftir her emprise,

And of that deede be not erke, And lesith fredom and fraunchise,

But ofte sithes haunt that werke. That nature in hym hadde sette.

Fornoonwoldedrawe therof a draught, The which ageyne he may not gette,

Ne were delite which hath hym kaught. If he there make his mansioun,

Thus hath sotilled Dame Nature; For to abide professioun.

For noon goth right, I thee ensure, Though for a tyme his herte absente,

Ne hath entent hool ne parfit, It may not fayle, he shal repente,

?or hir desir is for delyte; And eke abide thilke day

The which for tene crece, and eke To leve his abite and gone his way ;

The pley of love for-ofte seke, And lesith his worship and his name,

Vnd thrall hem silf they be so nyce And dar not come ageyn for shame,

Jnto the prince of every vyce; But al his lyf he doth so morne,

l?or of ech synne it is the rote By cause he dar not hom retourne.

iJnlefull lust, though it be sote, Fredom of kynde so lost hath he,

ind of all yvell the racyne, That never may recured be,

is Tulius can determyne But that if God hym graunte grace

Which in his tyme was full sage,) That he may, er he hennes pace,

n a boke he made OF AGE, Conteyne undir obedience

Vhere that more he preyseth eelde, Thurgh the vertu of pacience.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

For youthe sett man in all folye,
In unthrift and [in] ribaudie,
In leccherie and in outrage,
So ofte it chaungith of corage.

Hir acqueyntaunce wolde noman fele
Ne ban of Elde companye,
Men hate to be of hir alye ;
For noman wolde bicomen olde

Youthe gynneth ofte sich bargeyne Ne dye, whanne he is yong and bolde.

That may not eende withouten peyne. And Eelde merveilith right gretlye,

In gret perell is sett youthede, Whanne thei remembre hem inwardly,

Delite so doth his bridil leede. Of many a perelous emprise,

Delite thushangith,drede theenought, Whiche that they wrought in sondrywis

Bothe mannys body and his thought How evere they myght, withoute blan

Oonly thurgh youth, [his] chamberere, Escape awey withoute shame.

That to done yvell is custommere,
And of nought elles taketh hede
But oonly folkes forto lede
Into disporte and wyldenesse,
So [she] is frowarde from sadnesse.
But Eelde drawith hem therfro,

In youthe withoute damage

Or repreef of her lynage,

Losse of membre, shedyng of blode,

Perell of deth, or losse of good.

Woste thou nought where Youthe abit,

That men so preisen in her witt ?

Who wote it nought, he may wel goo With Delite she halt sojour,

And moo of hem that now arn olde, For bothe they dwellen in oo tour.

That whilom youthhed hadde in holde, As longe as Youthe is in sesoun

Which yit remembre of tendir age, They dwellen in oon mansioun.

How it hem brought in many a rage, Delite of Youthe wole have servise

And many a foly therynne wrought. To do what so he wole devise ;

But now that Eelde hath hem thourgh And Youthe is redy evermore

sought,

They repente hem of her folye,
That youthe hem putte in jupardye,
In perell, and in myche woo,
And made hem ofte amys to do,
And suen yvell companye,
Riot and avouterie.

But Eelde can ageyn restreyne
From sich folye, and refreyne
And sette men by her ordinaunce
In good reule and in governaunce.
But yvell she spendith hir servise
For no man wole hir love ne preise,
She is hated, this wote I welle,

Forto obey for smerte of sore
Unto Delite, and hym to yive
Hir servise while that she may ly ve.
Where Elde abit I wole thee telle
Shortly, and no while dwelle,
For thidir byhoveth thee to goo.
If deth in youthe [hath] thee not sloo,
Of this journey thou maist not faile.
With hir Labour and Travaile
Logged ben, with Sorwe and Woo
That never out of hir court goo.
Peyne and Distresse, Syknesse and Ire
And Malencoly, that angry sire,
Ben of hir paleys senatours ;
GronyngandGrucchynghirherbejours

YOUTHE AND DELITE

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

.icqueyntaunce woldc noman fele
Ne han of Elde companye,
Men hate to be of hir alye ;
For noman wolde bicotnen olde

For youthe sett man in all folye,

In unthrift and [in] ribaudie,

In leccherie and in outrage,

So ofte it chaungith of corage.

Youthe gynneth ofte sich bargeyne Ne dye, whanne he is yong and bolde.

That may not eende withoutcn peyne. And Eelde merveilith right gretlye,

In gret perell is sett youthede, Whanne thei remembre hem inwardly

Delite so doth his bridil leede. Of many a perelous emprise,

Delite thushangith,drede thee nought, Whiche that they wrought in sondrywi

Bothe mannys t>ody and his thought How evere they myght, withoute blai

Oonly thurgh youth, [his] chamberere, Escape awey withoute shame.

That to done yvell is custommere,

And of nought elles takcth hcdc
But oonly folkes forto lede
Into disporte and wyldenejft*
So [she] is frowarde from sadnesse.
But Eelde drawith hem therfro,
Who wote it nought, he may wel goo
And moo of hem that no\* irn olde.
That whilom youth hed hadde tn holde,
Which yit remembre of temiir age.
How it hem brought in many a rage,
And many a foly therynnc wrought.

In youthe withoute damage
Or repreef of her lynage,
Losse of membre, shedyng of blode,
Perell of deth, or losse of good.
Wostethou nought where Youtheabit,]
That men o preisen in her witt ?
With Ddue she halt sojour,
For bothe they dwellen in oo tour.
As longe as Youthe is in sesoun
They dwellen in oon mansioun.
Delite of Ycmthe wole have servise
To do what so he wole devise;

But now that Eelde hath hem thourgh And Youthe is redy evermore

sought,
They repente hem of her
That youthe hem putte in jupardye,
In perell, and in myche woo,
And made hero ofte amy? to do,
And suen yvell companye,
Riot and avouterie.

But Eelde can ageyn restreyne
From sich folyc, and rcfrevne
And settc men by he; <T»iirMttnce
In good renle and in govertta\ir««
But yvelt she spendith hsr ser-

Forto obey for smerte of sore
Unto Delik-, and hym to yive
Hir servise while that she may ly vc
Where £' I wole thee telle

Shortly, and M while dwelle,
For i 'veth thee to goo.

If dcth in •« ^hath] thee not si

Of this ;;ou maist not faik.

With ) and Travaile

Logged ben with Sorwe and Woo
That never i>ut of hir court goo.
Peyne 2 > \-tresse, Syknesse and I
And Malcm oly, that angry sire,

?or no man wole hir love nc preisc, Ben of hir palcys senatours ;

She is hated, this wote I v

jcchyng hirherbejj

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The day and nyght hir to turment, They wole it holde a gret myschaunce;

With cruell deth they hir present ; But what-som-ever woo they fele,

And tellen hir, erliche and late, They wole not pleyne but concele,

That Deth stont armed at hir gate. But if it be ony fool or nyce

Thannebryngetheytoherremembraunceln whom that Shame hath no justice.
The foly dedis of hir infaunce, For to delyte echone they drawe,

Whiche causen hir to mourne in woo That haunte this werke bothe high
That Youthe hath hir bigiled so, and lawe,

Which sodeynly awey is hasted. Save sich that arn worth right nought

She wepeth the tyme that she hath wasted, That for money wole be bought.

Compleynyng of the preterit

And the present, that not abit,

And of hir olde vanite ;

That, but aforn hir she may see

In the future somme socour,

To leggen hir of hir dolour,

To graunte hir tyme of repentaunce,

For her synnes to do penaunce,

And at the laste so hir governe

To wynne the joy that is eterne,

Frowhich go bakward Youthe hermade

In vanite to droune and wade, —

For present tyme abidith nought,

It is more swift than any thought,

So litel while it doth endure

That ther nys compte ne mesure.

But how that evere the game go

Who list to have joie and mirth also

Of love, be it he or she

High or lowe, who it be,

In fruyt they shulde hem delyte ;

Her part they may not elles quyte,

To save hem-silf in honeste.

And yit full many one I se

Of wymmen, sothly forto seyne,

That desire and wolde fayne

The pley of love, they be so wilde,

And not coveite to go with childe.

Such love I preise in no wise,

Whanne it is goven for coveitise.

I preisenowommanthoughshebewood

That yeveth hir-silf for ony good.

For litel shulde a man telle,

Of hir that wole hir body selle,

Be she mayde, be she wyf,

That quyk wole selle hir, bi hir lif.

How faire chere that evere she make

He is a wrecche, I undirtake,

That loved such one, for swete or soure,

Though she hym calle hir paramoure,

And laughethonhym,and makith hym

feeste ;

For certeynly no such beeste
To be loved is not worthy,
Or bere the name of druerie.
Noon shulde hir please, but he were

woode,

That wole dispoile hym of his goode.
Yit nevertheles I wole not sey
That she for solace and for pley
Ne may a jewel or other thyng
Take of her loves fre yevyng ;
But that she aske it in no wise,
For drede of shame of coveitise.
And she of hirs may hym certeyn
Withoute sclaundre yeven ageyn,

And if with child they be perchaunce, And joyne her hertes to-gidre so

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

In love, and take and yeve also.
Trowe not that I wolde hem twynne
Whanne in her love ther is no synne ;
I wole that they to-gedre go,
And don al that they han ado,
As curteis shulde and debonaire,
And in her love beren hem faire,
Withoute vice, bothe he and she,
So that alwey in honeste
Fro foly love they kepe hem clere,
That brenneth hertis with his fere,
And that her love in ony wise
Be devoide of coveitise.
Good love shulde engendrid be
Of trewe herte, just and secre,
And not of such as sette her thought
To have her lust, and ellis nought.
So are they caught in loves lace,
Truly for bodily solace.
Fleshly delite is so present

As thou peraunter knowen shall
Whanne thou hast lost thi tyme all,
And spent thy youth in ydilnesse
In waste and wofull lustynesse.
If thow maist lyve the tyme to se
Of love forto dely vered be,
Thy tyme thou shalt biwepe sore,
The whiche never thou maist restore,
For tyme lost, as men may see,
For no thyng may recured be.
And if thou scape yit atte laste
Fro Love that hath thee so faste
Knytt and bounden in his lace,
Certeyn I holde it but a grace.
For many oon, as it is seyne,
Have lost and spent also in veyne
In his servise, withoute socour,
Body and soule, good and tresour,
Witte and strengthe and eke richesse,
Of which they hadde never redresse."

With thee, that sette all thyne entent,

Withoute more (what shulde I glose ?) Thus taught and preched hath resoun,

Forto gete and have the Rose, But Love spilte hir sermoun,

Which makith [thee] somateandwoode, That was so ymped in my thought,

That thou desirest noon other goode. That hir doctrine I sette at nought.

But thou art not an inche the nerre, And yitt ne seide she never a dele

But evere abidist in sorwe and werre, That I ne undirstode it wele,

As in thi face it is sene ;

It makith thee bothe pale and lene ;

Thy myght, thi vertu goth away.

A sory geste, in goode fay,

Thou herberest then in thyne inne,

TheGod of Lovewhanne thou let inne.

Wherfore I rede thou shette hym oute,

Or he shall greve thee, oute of doute ;

For to thi profit it wole turne,

Iff he nomore with thee sojourne.

In gret myscheef and sorwe sonken

Word by word the mater all ;
But unto love I was so thrall,
Which callith over-all his pray,
He chasith so my thought al day,
And halt myne herte undir his sele,
As trust and trew as ony stele.
So that no devocioun
Ne hadde I in the sermoun
Of dame Resoun, ne of hir rede.
It toke no sojour in myne hede,
For all yede oute at [that] oon ere,

Ben hertis that of love arn dronken, That in that other she dide lere ;

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Fully on me she lost hir lore.

Hir speche me greved wondir sore.

Than unto hir for ire I seide,
For anger as I dide abraide :
"Dame, and is it youre wille algate
That I not love, but that I hate
Alle men, as ye me tcche ?
For if I do aftir youre speche,
Sith that ye seyne love is not good,
Thanne must I nedis say with mood,
If I it leve, in hatrede ay
To lyven, and voide love away
From me, [and be] a synfull wrecche,
Hated of all that [love that] tecche ;
I may not go noon other gate,
For other must I love or hate.
And if I hate men of newe
More than love, it wole me rewe,
As by youre preching semeth me,
For Love no thing ne preisith thee.
Ye yeve good counsel sikirly,
That prechith me al day that I
Shulde not loves lore alowe,
He were a foole wolde you not trowe.
In speche also ye han me taught
Another love that knowen is naught,
Which I have herd you not repreve,
To love ech other. By youre leve,
If ye wolde diffyne it me,
I wolde gladly here to sc,
Atte the leest, if I may lere,
Of sondry loves the manere."

Raisoun. " Certis freend a fool art
thou

To accomplisshe thi requeste.

But I not where it wole avayle,

In veyn perauntre I shal travayle.

Love ther is in sondry wise,

As I shal thee heere devise.

For somme love leful is and good ;

I menenotthat which makith thee wood,

And bringith thee in many a fitte

And ravysshith fro thee al thi witte,

It is so merveilouse and queynte ;

With such love be no more aqueynte.

Love of freendship also ther is,
Which makith no man done amys,
Of wille knytt bitwixe two,
That wole not breke for wele ne woo ;
Which long is likly to contune
Whanne wille and goodis ben in comune ;
Grounded by goddis ordinaunce,
Hoole withoutc discordaunce ;
With hem holdyng comunte
Of all her goode in charite ;
That ther be noon excepcioun
Thurgh chaungyng of entencioun ;
That ech helpe other at her neede,
And wisely hele bothe word and dede ;
Trewe of menyng, devoide of slouthe,
For witt is nought withoute trouthe,
So that the ton dar all his thought,
Seyn to his freend and spare nought
As to hym silf, withoute dredyng
To be discovered by wreying.
For glad. is that conjunccioun
Whanne ther is noon susspecioun,
[Nelak in hem] whom they wolde prove,

Whan that thou no thyng wolt allowe, That trewe and parfit weren in love.
That I for thi profit say. For no man may be amyable,

Yit wole I sey thee more in fay, But if he be so ferme and stable

For I am redy at the leste Thatfortunechaungehymnot,neblynde ;

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE
But that his freend all-wey hym fynde, 'A fooles belle is soone runge.'

Bothe pore and riche, in oon estate.
For if his freend, thurgh ony gate,
Wole compleyne of his poverte,
He shulde not bide so long til he
Of his helpyng hym requere ;
For goode dede done thurgh praiere
Is sold and bought to deere, I-wys,
To hert that of grete valour is.
For hert fulfilled of gentilnesse
Can yvel demene his distresse,
And man, that worthy is of name,
To asken often hath gret shame.

Yit shal a trewe freend do more,
To helpe his felowe of his sore,
Andsocoure hym, whanne he hath neede,
In all that he may done in deede ;
And gladder [be] that he hym plesith, j
Than his felowe, that he esith.
And if he do not his requeste,
He shal as mochel hym moleste
As his felow, for that he
May not fulfille his volunte

Fully, as he hath requered.
If bothe the hertis Love hath fered,
A good man brenneth in his thought Joy and woo they shull departe

For shame, whanne he axeth ought. And take evenly ech his parte ;
He hath gret thought, and dredeth ay Half his anoy he shal have ay,
For his disese, whanne he shal pray And comfort [him] what that he may ;

And of his blisse parte shal he,
If love wel departed be.

His freend, lest that he warned be,
Til that he preve his stabilte.
But whanne that he hath founden oon
That trusty is and trewe as stone,
And [hath] assaied hym at alle,

And whilom of this unyte
Spake Tulius in a ditee,

And founde hym stedefast as a walle Man shulde maken his requeste
And of his freendship be certeyne, Unto his freend that is honeste,

He shal hym shewe bothe joye and peyne, And he goodly shulde it fulfille,
And all that [he] dar thynke or sey, But if the more were out of skile ;
Withoute shame, as he wel may. And other wise not graunte therto,

For how shulde he a-shamed be Except oonly in causes twoo ;

Of sich one as I tolde thee ? If men his freend to deth wolde driv

For whanne he woot his secre thought, Late hym be bisy to save his ly ve ;
The thridde shal knowe therof right Also if men wolen hym assayle

Of his wurship to make hym faile,
And hyndren hym of his renoun ;
Late hym, with full entencioun,
His dever done in eche degre
That his freend ne shamed be,

nought ;

For tweyne of noumbre is bet thanthre
In every counsell and secre.
Repreve he dredeth never a deele
Who that bisett his wordis wele.

For every wise man, out of drede,

Can kepe his tunge till he se nede ;

And fooles can not holde her tunge — As ferre as love may hym excuse ;

In this two causes with his myght,
Taking no kepe to skile nor right

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

This ought no man to refuse.
This love, that I have tolde to thee,
Is no thing contrarie to me ;
This wole I that thou folowe wele,
And leve the tother everydele ;
This love to vertu all entendith,
The tothir fooles blent and shendith.

Another love also there is,
That is contraric unto this ;
Which desire is so constreyned
That [it] is but wille feyned.
Awey fro trouthe it doth so varie,
That to good love it is contrarie,
For it maymeth in many wise
Sike hertis with coveitise.
All in wynnyng and in profit
Sich love settith his delite.
This love so hangeth in balaunce,
That if it lese his hope perchaunce
Of lucre that he is sett upon,
It wole faile and quenche anoon.
For no man may be amerous,
Ne in his lyvyng vertuous,
But he love more in moode
Men for him-silf than for her goode.
For love that profit doth abide
Is fals, and bit not in no tyde
[This] love comcth of Dame Fortune,
That litel while wole contune ;
For it shal chaungen wonder soone,
And take Eclips ; right as the moone
Whanne he is from us lett
Thurgh erthe, that bitwixe is sett
The sonne and hir, as it may falle,
Be it in partie or in all.

Of Phebus fully, and the sight;
Til, whanne the shadowe is overpaste,
She is enlumyned ageyn as faste
Thurgh the brightnesse of the sonne

bemes,

That yeveth to hir ageyne hir lemes.
That love is right of sich nature,
Now is faire, and now obscure,
Now bright, now clipsi of manere,
Andwhilom dymme,andwhilom clere.
As soone as poverte gynneth take,
With mantel and [with] wedis blake
Hidith of love the light awey,
That into nyght it turneth day ;
It may not see richesse shyne,
Till the blake shadowes fyne.
For whanne richesse shyneth bright
Love recovereth ageyn his light,
And whanne it failith, he wole flit ;
And as she groweth, so groweth it.
Of this love here what I sey :
The riche men are loved ay,
And namely tho that sparand bene,
That wole not wasshe her hertes clene
Of the filthe, nor of the vice
Of gredy brennyng avarice.
The riche man full fonned is y-wys,
That weneth that he loved is ;
If that his herte it undirstode,
It is not he, it is his goode ;
He may wel witen in his thought
His good is loved and he right nought.
For if he be a nygard eke,
Men wole not sette by hym a leke,
But haten hym, this is the sothe.
Lo, what profit his catell doth ?

The shadowe makethherbemysmerke, Of every man that may hym sec,
Vnd hir homes to shewe derke It geteth hym nought but enmyte.

That part where she hath lost hir lyght But he amende hym of that vice,

And knowe hym silf, he is not wys.
Certys he shulde ay freendly be,
To gete hym love also ben free,
Or ellis he is not wise ne sage,
Nomore than is a gote ramage.

That he not loveth his dede proveth,
Whan he his richesse so wel loveth
That he wole hide it ay and spare,
His pore freendis sene forfare
To kepen alway his purpose,
Til for drede his yen close,
And til a wikked deth hym take.
Hym hadde lever a-sondre shake
And late hise lymes a-sondre ryve,
Than leve his richesse in his ly ve ;
He thenkith parte it with no man.
Certayn no love is in hym than ;
How shulde love withynne hym be,
Whanne in his herte is no pite?
That he trespasseth wel I wat,
For ech man knowith his estate.
For wel hym ought to be reproved
That loveth nought, ne is not loved.
But sen we arn to fortune comen,
And hath oure sermoun of hir nomen,
A wondir will y telle thee nowe ;
Thou herdist never sich oon I trowe.
I note where thou me leven shall,
Though sothfastnesse it be at all.
As it is writen and is soth,
That unto men more profit doth
The froward fortune and contraire,
Than the swote and debonaire ;
And if thee thynke it is doutable
It is thurgh argument provable ;
For the debonaire and softe
Falsith and bigilith ofte.
For lyche a moder she can cherishe,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And mylken [hem] as doth a norys ;

And of hir goode to hem deles,

And yeveth hem parte of her joweles,

With grete richesse and dignite ;

And hem she hoteth stabilite

In a state that is not stable,

But chaungynge ay and variable;

And fedith hym with glorie veyne,

In worldly blisse noncerteync.

Whanne she hem settith on hir whele

Thanne wene they to be right wele,

And in so stable state withall

That never they wene forto falle.

And whanne they sette so highe be,

They wene to have in certeynte

Of hertly freendis so grete noumbre

That no thyng myght her state encombn

They trust hem so on every side,

Wenyng with hem they wolde abide

In every perell and myschaunce,

Withoute chaunge or variaunce

Bothe of catell and of goode.

And also forto spende her bloode,

And all her mcmbris forto spille,

Oonly to fulfille her wille.

They maken it hole in many wise,

And hoten hem her full servise,

How sore that it do hem smerte,

Into her naked sherte.

Herte and all so hole they yive,

For the tyme that they may lyve.

So that with her flaterie,

They maken foolis glorifie

Of her wordis spekyng,

And han ther-of a rejoysyng,

And trowe hem as the Evangile :

And it is all falsheede and gile,

As they shal aftirwarde se

Whanne they arn falle in poverte,

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

And ben of good and catell bare ; For in-fortune late not oon

Thanne shulde they sene who freendis Of freendis, whanne Fortune is gone —

ware. I mene tho freendis that wole fle

For of an hundred certeynly, Anoon, as entreth poverte ;

Nor of a thousande full scarsly, And yit they wole not leve hem so,

Ne shal they fynde unnethis oon But in ech place where they go,

Whanne poverte is comen upon. They calle hem 'wrecche,' scorne, and
For this Fortune that I of telle blame,

With men whanne hir lust to dwelle, And of her myshappe hem diffame.

Makith hem to leese her conisaunce, And namely siche as in richesse

And norishith hem in ignoraunce. Pretendid moost of stablenesse,

Whanne that they sawehymsetteonlofte,

But froward Fortune and perverse, And were of hym socoured ofte,

Whanne high estatis she doth reverse, And most yholpe in all her neede;

And maketh hem to tumble doune But now they take no maner heede,

Of hir whele, with sodeyn tourne, But seyn in voice of flaterie,

And from her richesse doth hem fle, That now apperith her folye

And plongeth hem in poverte, Over-all where so they fare,

As a stepmoder envyous And synge 'Go fare-wel, feldefare.'

And leieth a piastre dolorous All suche freendis I beshrewe,

Unto her hertis wounded egre, For of trewe ther be to fewe.

Which is not tempred with vynegre But sothfast freendis, what so bitide,

But with poverte and indigence — In every fortune wolen abide ;

Forto shewe by experience Thei han her hertis in suche noblesse

That she is Fortune verelye, That they nyl love for no richesse,

In whom no man shulde afrye, Nor for that fortune may hem sende

Nor in hir yeftis have fiaunce, Thei wolen hem socoure and defende,

She is so full of variaunce. And chaunge for softe ne for sore ;

Thus kan she maken high and lowe, For who is freend loveth evermore.

Whanne they from richesse arn [y-] Though men drawe swerde his freend to

thro we, slo,

Fully to knowen without were He may not hewe her love a-two,

Freend of affect and freend of chere ; But in case that I shall sey ;

And which in love were trewe and stable, For pride and ire lese it he may,

And whiche also were variable, And for reprove by nycete,

After Fortune her goddesse, And discovering of privite ;

In poverte outher in richesse. With tonge woundyng as feloun,

For all she yeveth here, out of drede, Thurgh venemous detraccioun.

Unhappe bereveth it in dede ; Frende in this case wole gone his way,

73 K

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

For no thyng greve hym more ne may,
And for nought ellis wole he fle,
If that he love in stabilite.
And certeyn he is wel bigone,
Among a thousand that fyndith oon ;
For ther may be no richesse
Ageyns frendshipp of worthynesse ;
For it ne may so high atteigne
As may the valoure, soth to seyne,
Of hym that loveth trew and well.
Frendshipp is more than is catell,
For freend in court ay better is,
Than peny in purs certis.
And Fortune myshappyng,
Whanne upon men she is fallyng
Thurgh mysturnyng of hir chaunce,
And casteth hem oute of balaunce,
She makith thurgh hir adversite
Men full clerly forto se
Hym that is freend in existence,
From hym that is by apparence.
For yn-fortune makith anoon,
To knowe thy freendis fro thy foon,
By experience right as it is.
The which is more to preise y-wis,
Than is myche richesse and tresour.
For more dothe profit and valour
Poverte and such adversite
Bi fer than doth prosperite ;
For the toon yeveth conysaunce,
And the tother ignoraunce.

And thus in poverte is in dede
Trouthe declared fro falsheed,
For feynte frendis it wole declare,
And trewe also what wey they fare.
For whanne he was in his richesse,
These freendis ful of doublenesse
Offrid hym in many wise

Hert, and body, and servise ;

What wolde he thanne ha yove to ha

bought

To knowen openly her thought,
That he now hath so clerly seen ?
The lasse bigiled he shulde have bene,
And he haddc thanne perceyved it ;
But richesse nold not late hym witte.
Wel more avauntage doth hym thanne,
Sith that it makith hym a wise man,
The gret myscheef that he receyveth,
Than doth richesse that hym decey veth.
Richesse riche ne makith nought
Hym that on tresour sette his thought,
For richesse stonte in suffisaunce
And no-thyng in habundaunce ;
For suffisaunce all oonly
Makith men to lyve richely.
For he that at mycches tweyne,
Ne valued [is] in his demeine,
Lyveth more at ese, and more is riche,
Than doth he that is chiche,
And in his berne hath, soth to seyn,
An hundred mowis of whete greyne,
Though he be chapman or marchaunte,
And have of golde many [a] besaunte.
For in the getyng he hath such woo,
And in the kepyng drede also,
And sette evermore his bisynesse
Forto encrese, and not to lesse,
Forto aument and multiplie.
And though on hepis that lye hym bye
Yit never shal make his richesse
Asseth unto his gredynesse.
But the povere that recchith nought,
Save of his lyflode, in his thought,
Which that he getith with his travaile,
He dredith nought that it shall faile,
Though he have lytel worldis goode,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Mete, and drynke, and esy foode, To paradys the sonner go

Upon his travel and lyvyng, He shal, there forto lyve in blisse,

And also suffisaunt clothyng. Where that he shal noo good misse;

Or if in syknesse that he fall, Thider he hopith God shal hym sende,

And lothe mete and drynke withall, Aftir his wrecchid lyves ende.

Though he have not his mete to bye Pictagoras hym silf reherses

He shal bithynke hym hastily In a book, that the Golden Verses

To putte hym oute of all daunger, Is clepid for the nobilite

That he of mete hath no myster; Of the honourable ditee,

Or that he may with lytel eke That whanne thou goste thy body fro,

Be founden, while that he is seke ; Fre in the eir thou shalt up go,

Or that men shull hym berne in haste, And leven al humanite,

To lyve til his syknesse be paste, And purely lyve in deite.

To somme maysondewe biside ; He is a foole withouten were

Or he caste nought what shal hym That trowith have his Countre heere ;

bitide — In erthe is not oure Countre —

He thenkith nought that evere he shall That may these clerkis seyn, and see

Into ony sykenesse fall. In Boice of Consolacioun,

And though it falle, as it may be, Where it is maked mencioun

That all be-tyme spare shall he Of oure countre pleyn at the ye

As mochel, as shal to hym suffice By teching of Philosophic ;

While he is sike in ony wise, Where lewid men myght lere witte,

He doth [that] for that he wole be Who so that wolde translaten it.

Contente with his poverte, If he be sich that can wel lyve

Withoute nede of ony man. Aftir his rente may hym yive,

So myche in litel have he can, And not desireth more to have,

He is apaied with his fortune ; Than may fro poverte hym save.

And for he nyl be importune A wise man seide, as we may seen,

Unto no wight, ne honerous, Is no man wrecche but he it wene,

Nor of her goodes coveitous, Be he kyng, knyght, or ribaude;

Therfore he spareth, it may wel bene, And many a ribaude is mery and baude

His pore estate forto sustene. That swynkith and berith bothe day
Or if hym lust not forto spare, and nyght

But suffrith forth as not ne ware, Many a burthen of gret myght,

Atte last it hapneth as it may The whiche doth hym lasse offense

Right unto his laste day, For he sufFrith in pacience.

And taketh the world as it wolde be; They laugh anddaunce,trippeandsynge,

For cvere in herte thenkith he, And ley not up for her lyvyng,

The sonner that [the] deth hym slo, But in the tavcrne all dispendith

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The wynnyng that God hem sendith. Thatwhannehemosthath,mosthefailirl

Phisiciens and advocates

Thanne goth he fardeles forto here,
With as good chere as he dide ere;
To swynke and traveile he not feynith
For for to robben he disdeynith ;
But right anoon aftir his swynke
He goth to taverne forto drynke.
All these ar riche in abundaunce,
That can thus have suffisaunce
Wei more than can an usurere,
As God wel knowith, withoute were.
For an usurer, so God me se,
Shal nevere for richesse riche be,
But evermore pore and indigent,
Scarce and gredy in his entent.

For soth it is, whom it displese,
Ther may no marchaunt lyve at ese.
His herte in sich a werre is sett,
That it quyk brenneth more to gete,
Ne never shal enough have geten,

Gone right by the same yates ;
They selle her science for wynnyng,
And haunte her crafte for gret getyng.
Her wynnyng is of such swetnesse,
That if a man falle in sikenesse,
They are full glad for ther encrese ;
For by her willc, withoute lees,
Everiche man shulde be seke,
And though they die, they sette not a lek
After, whanne they the gold have take,
Full litel care for hem they make ;
They wolde that fourty were seke

atonys —

Ye ii hundred in flesh and bonys,
And yit ii thousand, as 1 gesse,
Forto encrecen her richesse.
They wole not worchen in no wise,
But for lucre and coveitise.
For Fysic gynneth first by * Fy *

Though he have gold in gerners yeten. (The Phisicien also sothely) ;

Forto be nedy he dredith sore,

Wherfore to geten more and more

He sette his herte and his desire.

So hote he brennyth in the fire,

Of coveitise, that makith hym woode

To purchace other mennes goode.

He undirfongith a gret peyne

That undirtakith to drynke up Seyne

For the more he drynkith ay

The more he leveth, the soth to say.

Thus is thurst offals getyng,

That laste ever in coveityng,

And the angwisshe and distresse,

With the fire of gredyncsse.

And sithen it goth fro 'Fy' to 'Sy,'
To truste on hem [it] is foly,
For they nyl, in no maner gre,
Do right nought for charite.

Eke in the same secte ar sette
All tho that prechen forto gete
Worshipes, honour, and richesse.
Her hertis arn in grete distresse,
That folk [ne] lyve not holily.
But aboven all specialy
Sich as prechen [in] veynglorie,
And toward god have no memorie,
But forth as ypocrites trace,

she fightith with hym ay and stryveth, And to her soules deth purchace
That his herte a-sondre ryveth ; An outward shewing holynesse,

Such gredynesse hym assaylith, Though they be full of cursidnesse,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Not liche to the apostles twelve.
They deceyve other and hem selve ;
Bigiled is the giler thanne,
For prechyng of a cursed man
Though [it] to other may profite,
Hymsilf it vaileth not a myte.
For ofte goode predicacioun
Cometh of evel entencioun.
To hym not vailith his preching,
All helpe he other with his teching.
For where they good ensaumple take,
There is he with veynglorie shake.
But late us leven these prechoures,
And speke of hem that in her toures
Hepe up her gold, and faste shctte,
And sore theron her herte sette.
They neither love God ne drede,
They kepe more than it is nede,
And in her bagges sore it bynde ;
Out of the sonne, and of the wynde,
They putte up more than nede ware.
Whanne they seen pore folk forfare,
For hunger die, and for cold quake,
God can wel vengeaunce therof take.
Thre gret myscheves hem assailith,
And thus in gadring ay travaylith:

To hem that weren in nede bistadde ;
And ly ve withoute false usure,
For charite, full clene and pure.
If they hem yeve to' goodnesse,
Defendyng hem from ydelnesse,
In all this world thanne pover noon
We shulde fynde, I trowe not oon.
But chaunged is this world unstable,
For love is over-all vendable ;
We se that no man loveth nowe,
But for wynnyng and for prowe.
And love is thralled in servage,
Whanne it is sold for avauntage ;
Yit wommen wole her bodyes selle —
Suche soules goth to the devel of helle.

• •••••

Whanne Love hadde toldhem his enten t,
The baronage to councel went ;
In many sentences they fille,
And dyversly they seide hir wille.
But aftir discorde they accorded,
And her accord to Love recorded :
" Sir," seiden they, " we ben atone
Bi evene accorde of everichone,
Outake Richesse al oonly,
That sworne hath ful hauteynly,

With my chelpeyne they wynnerichesse, That she the castell nyl not assaile,

And drede hem holdith in distresse
To kepe that they gadre faste,
With sorwe they leve it at the laste ;
With sorwe they bothe dye and lyve
That unto richesse her hertis yive.
And in defaute of love it is,
As it shewith ful wel I-wys ;
For if this gredy, the sothe to seyn,
Loveden and were loved ageyn,
And goode Love regned over-all,
Such wikkidnesse ne shulde fall.

Ne smyte a stroke in this bataile
With darte ne mace, spere ne knyf,
For man that spekith or berith the lyf,
And blameth youre emprise, I-wys,
And from oure hoost departed is,
Atte lest wey as in this plyte,
So hath she this man in dispite.
For, she seith, he ne loved hir never,
And therfore she wole hate hym evere.
For he wole gadre no tresoure,
He hath hir wrath for evermore ;

Butheshuldeyeve,thatmostgoodhadde, He agylte hir never in other caas,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Lo, heere all hoolly his trespas.
She seith wel that this other day
He axide hir leve to gone the way
That is clepid 'To-moche-yevyng,'
And spak full faire in his praiyng.
But whanne he praide hir, pore was he,
Therfore she warned hym the entre ;
Ne yit is he not thryven so
That he hath geten a peny or two,
That quytly is his owne, in holde.
Thus hath Richesse us all[e] tolde ;
And whanne Richesse us this recorded,
Withouten hir we ben accorded.
And we fynde in oure accordaunce
That False-Semblantand Abstinaunce,
With all the folk of her bataille,
Shull at the hyndre gate assayle,
That Wikkid-Tunge hath in kepyng

Withouten hir may no wight spede
This werk, neithir for word ne deede ;
Therfore is good ye for hir sende,
For thurgh hir may this werk amende. '"

" Lordynges, my modir, the goddesse,
That is my lady and my maistresse,
Nis not [at] all at my willyng,
Ne doth not all my desiryng ;
Yit can she some tyme done labour,
Whanne that hir lust, in my socour,
As my nede is forto a-chevc.
But now I thenke hir not to geve ;
My modir is she, and of childehede,
I bothe worshipe hir and drede.
For who that dredith sire ne dame,
Shal it abye in body or name.
And netheles yit kunne we

With his Normans full of janglyng ; Sende aftir hir if nede be ;

And with hem Curtesie and Largesse, And were she nygh she comen wolde,

That shull shewe her hardynesse I trowe that no thyng myght hir holde.

To the olde wyf, that kepte so harde Mi modir is of gret prowesse,

Fair-Welcomyng withynne her warde ; Sh e hath tan many a forteresse,

Thanneshal Delite and Wel-Heelynge That cost hath many a pounde, er this, •

Fonde Shame adowne to brynge,
With all her oost early and late
They shull assailen that ilke gate ;
Agaynes Drede shall Hardynesse
Assayle, and also Sikernesse
With all the folk of her ledyng,
That never wist what was fleyng ;
Fraunchise shall fight and eke Pite
With Daunger, full of Cruelte ;
Thus is youre hoost ordeyned wele.
Doune shall the castell every-dele,
If everiche do his entent,
So that Venus be present,
Youre modir full of vesselage
That can ynough of such usage.

There I nas not present y-wis ;
And yit men seide it was my dede.
But I come never in that stede,
Ne me ne likith, so mote I the,
That suchetoures ben take withouteme,,
For why me thenkith that in no wise
It may bene clepid but marchandise.
Go bye a courser, blak or white,
And pay therfore, than art thou quyte ;
Themarchauntowiththeerightnought,
Ne thou hym, whanne thou it bought,
I wole not sellyng clepe 'yevyng,'
For sellyng axeth no guerdonyng,
Here lith no thank ne no merite ;
That oon goth from that other al quyte.

"MI MODIR IS OF GRET PROWESSE "

THE ROM AUNT OF THE RO

Lo, hcerc all hoolly his trcspas.
She sdrh wel that this other day
He axidc hir leve to gone the way
That is clepid 'To-moche-y
And sf»ak full faire in his praiyn
But whanne he praide hir, pore was he,
Therfore she warned hym the cntre ;
Ne yit is he not thryven so
That he hath geten a peny or two,
That quytly is his owne, in holde.
Thus hath Richesse us all[e] tolde ;
And whanne Richesse us this recorded,
Withouten hir we ben accorded.
And we fynde in cure accordaunce
That False-Semblant and Abstinaunce,
With all the folk of her bataille,
Shull at the hyndre gate assayle,
That Wikkid-Tunge hath in kepyng
With his Normans full of janglyng ;

Withouten hir may no wight spede

erk, neith : .>rd ne deede ;

•re is good .ende,

:i hir may this werk amende."

" Lordynges, my modir, the goddesse.
That is my lady and my maistresse,
N is not [at] all at my willy ng,
Ne doth not all my desiryng ;
Yit can she some tyme done labour,
Whanne that hir lust, in my socour,.
As my ncde is forto a-chevc.
But now I thenke hir not to geve ;
My modir is she, and or childehede,
I bothe worshipe hir and drede.
For who that dredith sire ne dame,
Shal it abyc in body or name.
And netheles yit kunne we
Sende attir hir if nede be ;
And were she nygh she comen wolde,
I trowe that no thyng myght hir holdt

And with hem Curtcsie and Largesse,

That shull shewe her hardynesse

To the olde wyf, that kepte so harde Mi m of gret prowesse,

Fair-Welcomyng withynne herwarde ; She hath tan many a forteresse,

Thanneshal Delite and Wel-Heelynge That th many a pounde, er thii

Fonde Shame adowne to brynge,
With all her oost early and late
They shull assailen that ilke gate;
Agayncs Drede shall Hardynesse

»yle, and also Sikernesse
With all the folk of her ledyng,
Thtt never wist what was neyng ;
Fraunchise shall fight and eke Pite
'aunger, full of Cruel te ;

hoost ordeyned wele.
! thr v istcli evcry-dele,

-i ••» entent,
Tits Sr present,

-• of vcsaelace
Bough of su

Ifcv

Then ot present y-wis ;

And yit nien seide it was my dede.
But I come never in that stede,
Ne me ne likith, so mote I the,
That suchftoures ben take withoute me
For why me thenkith that in no \\
It may bene clepid but marchand:
Go bye a courser, blak or white,
And pay therfore, than art thou quyt«
The marchaunt owith thee right noug
Nc thou hym, whanne thou it bough

I wolc not sellyng clepe 'yevyng,'
Fo; ; axeth no guerdonyng,

I 1 i- • -•' n k ne no merite ;
T3*0;TO a JMUQNHWthat other alquyi

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

But this sellyng is not semblable ;

For whanne his hors is in the stable,

He may it selle ageyn, parde,

And wynnen on it,such happe may be

All may the man not leese I-wys,

For at the leest the skynne is his.

Or ellis if it so bitide

That he wole kepe his hors to ride,

Yit is he lord ay of his hors.

But thilke chafFare is wel wors,

There Venus entremetith ought.

All were he scoler to Richesse,
That is for me in gret yernyng
Whanne she assentith to my willyng.
But [by] my modir seint Venus,
And by hir fader Saturn us,
That hir engendride by his lyf
(But not upon his weddid wyf ) —
Yit wole I more unto you swere
To make this thyng the sikerere : —
Now by that feith and that leaute
That I owe to all my britheren fre,

For who-so such chaffare hath bought, Of which ther nys wight undir heven

He shal not worchen so wisely,
That he ne shal leese al outerly
Bothe his money and his chafFare.
But the seller of the ware
The prys and profit have shall,
Certeyn the bier shal leese all.
For he ne can so dere it bye
To have lordship and full maistrie,
Ne have power to make lettyng
Neithir for yift ne for prechyng,
That of his chafFare, maugre his,
Another shal have asmoche, I-wis,
If he wole yeve as myche as he,
Of what contrey so that he be;
Or for right nought, so happe may,
If he can flater hir to hir pay.
Ben thanne siche marchauntz wise?
No but fooles in every wise,
Whanne they bye sich thyng wilfully
There as they leese her good fully.
But natheles this dar I say,
My modir is not wont to pay,
For she is neither so fool ne nyce
To entremete hir of sich vyce.
But trusteth wel he shal pay all,
That repent of his bargeyn shall,

That kan her fadris names neven,
So dyverse and so many ther be,
That with my modir have be prive ;
Yit wolde I swere for sikirnesse,
The pole of helle to my witnesse,
Now drynke I not this yeere clarre,
If that I lye or forsworne be !
(For of the goddes the usage is,
That who so hym forswereth amys
Shal that yeer drynke no clarre.)
Now have I sworne ynough pardee,
If I forswere me, thanne am I lorne —
But I wole never be forsworne.
Syth Richesse hath me failed hecre,
She shal abye that trespas dere,
Atte lecst wey but hir arme
Withswerd,orsparthor[with]gysarme.
For certis sith she loveth not me
Fro thilke tyme that she may se
The castell and the tour to-shake,
In sory tyme she shal awake.
If I may grype a riche man,
I shal so pulle hym, if I can,
That he shal in a fewe stoundes
Lese all his markis and his poundis;
I shal hym make his pens outslynge,

Whanne poverte puttehym in distresse, But they in his gerner sprynge.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Oure maydens shal eke pluk hym so, Or pyment makid fresh and newe.

That hym shal neden fetheres mo, Ladies shull hem such pepir brewe,

Andmakehymsellehislondetospende, If that they fall into her laas,

But he the bet kunne hym defende. That they for woo mowe seyn, * Alias ! "
Pore men han maad her lord of me ;
Al though they not so myghty be
That they may fede me in delite,

I wole not have hem in despite ;
No good man hateth hem as I gesse.
For chynche and feloun is richesse ;

Ladyes shullen evcre so curteis be,
That they shal quyte youre oth all free,
Ne sekith never othir vicaire,
For they shal speke with hem so faire,
That ye shal holde you paied full wele>
Though ye you medle never a dele.

That so can chase hym and dispise, Late ladies worche with her thyngis

And hem defoule in sondry wise.

They shal hem telle so fele tidynges,

They loven full bet, so God me spede, And moeve hem eke so many requestis,
Than doth the riche chynchy gnede ; Bi flateri, that not honest is ;

And ben in goode feith more stable, And therto yeve hym such thankynges,
And trewer and more serviable.
And therfore it suffisith me
Her goode herte and her leaute.

What with kissyng, and with talkynges,'
That certis, if they trowed be,
Shal never leve hem londe ne fee,

They han on me sette all her thought, That it nyl as the moeble fare
And therfore I forgete hem nought; Of which they first delyverid are.
I wolde hem bringe in grete noblesse, Now may ye telle us all youre wille,

If that I were god of richesse,

As I am god of love sothely,

Sich routhe upon her pleynt have I.

Therfore I must his socour be

That peyneth hym to serven me,

For if he deide for love of this,

Thanne semeth in me no love ther is."

"Sir," seide they, "soth is every deel
That ye reherce, and we wote wel
Thilke oth to holde is resonable.
For it is good and covenable
That ye on riche men han sworne ;
For, Sir, this wote we wel biforne :
If Riche men done you homage,
That is, as fooles done, outrage.
But ye shull not forsworen be,

And we youre heestes shal fulfille.

But Fals-Semblaunt dar not for drede
Of you, Sir, medle hym of this dede ;
For he seith that ye ben his foo,
He note if ye wole worche hym woo.
Wherfore we pray you alle, Beausire,
That ye forgyve hym now your Ire,
And that he may dwelle as your man
With Abstinence, his dere lemman.
This oure accord and oure wille nowe."
"Parfay," seide Love, "I graunte it

yowe;

I wole wel holde hym for my man,
Nowlatehymcome." Andheforthran.
"Fals-Semblant," quod Love, "in this

wise

Ne lette, therfore, to drynke clarre I take thee heere to my servise,

"IF THAT I WERE GOD OF RICHESSE"

THE ROM AUNT OF THE

Cure maydens shal ckc pluk hym so, Or pymej \nd ncwe.

That hym shal ncden fcthcres mo, Ladies shull hem such pcpir brewe,

And makehym sellehislondetospende, If that they fall into her laas,

Bur he the bet kunne hym defende.
Pore men han maad her lord of me ;
Al though they not so myghty be
That they may fedc me in delite,
I wolc not have hem in despite ;
No good man hateth hem as I gesse.
For chynche and feloun is richesse ;
That so can chase hym and dispise,
And hem defoulc in sondry wise.
They lovcn full bet, so God me spede,
Than doth the riche chynchy gnede ;
And ben in goode feith more stable,
And trewer and more serviable.
And therfore it suffisith me
Her goode herte and her leaute.

That they for woo mowe seyn, 'Alias !

yes shullen everc so curteis be,
That they shal quyte youre oth all fre<
Ne sekith never othir vicaire,
For they shal speke with hem so faire
That ye shal holdc you paied full wel<
Though ye you medle never a dele.
Late ladies worche with her thyngis
They shal hem telle so fele tidynges,
And moeve hem eke so many request^
Bi flateri, that not honest is ;
And therto yeve hym such thankyng<
What with kissyng, and wi th

n tnanKyngej
rith talkyngq
:dbe,

That certis, if they trowed

Shal never leve hem londe ne fee,

They han on me sette all her thought, That it nyl as the moeble fare.

And therfore I forgete hem nought ; Of which they first delyverid are.

I wolde hem bringe in grete noblesse, Now may ye telle us all youre wille,

If that Lwere god of richesse,

As I am god of love sothely,

Sich routhe upon her pleynt have I.

Therfore I must his socour be

That peyneth hym to serven me,

For if he dekle tor love of this,

Thanne srmcth in me no love ther is."

And we youre heestes shal fulfille.

'Sir," scidc they, usoth is every deel
That ye rehcrce, and wt wotc wel
Thilke oth to holde is resonable.
I or it is good and covcnable
Ttitt yc on richc men han sworne ;
' •:, Sir, this wotc we wel biforne:

•i tf, is fooles donr ;..»trage.
But ye shuli not

rc-j

But Fals-Semblaunt dar not for dredi
Of you, Sir, medic hym of this dede
For he seith that ye ben his foo,
He note if ye wolc worche hym w<
Wherfore we pray you alle, Beausi
That ye forgyve hym now your In
And that h iwelle as your

With Abst . his dere lemman.

This oure accord and oure wille no'
"Parfay," scide Love, "I graunte it

yowe ;

I wolc wel holdc hym for my man,
^e." Andheforthr
quod Love, "in ti

servise,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That thou cure freendis helpe away, For they are cruel and hauteyne,

Andhyndrethhemneithirnyghtneday, And this thyng wote I well certeyne;

But do thy myght hem to releve ; If I speke ought to peire her loos,

And eke cure enemyes that thou greve ; Your court shal not so well be cloos

Thyne be this myght,! graunte it thee, That they ne shall wite it atte last.

My Kyng of Harlotes shalt thou be, Of good men am I nought agast,

We wole that thou have such honour. For they wole taken on hem no thyng,

Certeyne thou art a fals traitour, Whannethattheyknowealmymenyng.

And eke a theef ; sith thou were borne, But he that wole it on hym take,

A thousand tyme thou art forsworne ; He wole hym-silf suspecious make

But netheles in cure heryng, That he his lyf let covertly,

To putte cure folk out of doutyng In gile and in Ipocrisie

I bidde thee teche hem,wostowe howe, That me engendred and yaf fostryng."

Bi somme general signe nowe, "They made a full good engendryng,"

In what place thou shalt founden be, Quod Love, "for who so sothly telle,

If that men had myster of thee, They engendred the Devel of Helle.

And how men shal thee best espye ; But nedely, how so evere it be,"

For thee to knowe is gret maistrie. Quod Love, "I wole and charge thee

Telle in what place is thyn hauntyng." To telle anoon thy wonyng places,

, "Sir, I have fele dy verse wonyng, Heryng ech wight that in this place is,

That I kepe not rehersed be ; And what lyf that thou ly vest also ;

So that ye wolde respiten me. Hide it no lenger now — Wherto ?

For if that I telle you the sothe, Thou most discovere all thi wurchyng,

I may have harme and shame bothe ; How thou servest, and of what thyng,

If that my felowes wisten it, Though that thou shuldist for thi
My talis shulden me be quytt, sothe-sawe

For certeyne they wolde hate me Ben alto beten and to-drawe.

If ever I knewe her cruelte. And yit art thou not wont pardee.

For they wolde overall holde hem stille But natheles though thou beten be,

Of trouthe that is ageyne her wille ; Thou shalt not be the first that so

Suche tales kepen they not here. Hath for sothsawe suffred woo."
I myght eftsoone bye it full deere,

' If I seide of hem ony thing "Sir, sith that it may liken you,

That ought displesith to her heryng. Though that Ishuldebeslaynerightnow,

For what word that hem prikketh or I shal done youre comaundement,

biteth, For therto have I gret talent."

n that word noon of hem deliteth, Withouten wordis mo right thanne

\1 were it gospel the Evangile, Fals-Semblant his sermon biganne,

That wolde reprove hem of her gile. And seide hem thus in audience :

81 L

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

" Barouns, take heede of my sentence : Of men that myghty lyf may leden,
That wight that list to have knowing
Of Fals-Semblant, full of flatering,

He must in worldly folk hym seke,
And certes in the cloistres eke,
I wonc no where but in hem twey ;
But not lyk even, soth to sey.
Shortly, I wole herberwe me
There I hope best to holstred be ;
And certeynly sikerest hidyng,
Is undirnethe humblest clothing.
Religiouse folk ben full covert,
Seculer folk ben more appert.
But natheles I wole not blame
Religious folk, ne hem diffame ;
In what habit that ever they go,
Religioun umble and trewe also,
Wole I not blame, ne dispise,
But I nyl love it in no wise —
I mene of false religious,
That stoute ben and malicious,
That wolen in an abit goo,
And setten not her herte therto.
Religious folk ben al pitous,
Thou shalt not seen oon dispitous ;
They loven no pride, ne no strif,
But humbely they wole lede her lyf.
With which folk wole I never be,
And if I dwelle, I feyne me.
I may wel in her abit go,
But me were lever my nekke a-two
Than lete a purpose that I take,
What covenaunt that ever I make.
I dwelle with hem that proude be,
And full of wiles and subtilte,
That worship of this world coveiten,
And grete nedes kunnen espleiten,
And gone and gadren gret pitaunces,

Andfeyne hem pore,and hem silf feden
With gode morcels delicious,
And drinken good wyne precious,
And preche us povert and distresse,
And fisshen hem silf gret richesse
With wily nettis that they cast ;
It wole come foule out at the last.
They ben fro clene religioun went,
They make the world an argument,
That [hath] a foule conclusioun :
* I have a robe of religioun,
Thanne am I all religious.'
This argument is all roignous,
It is not worth a croked brere ;
Abit ne makith neithir monk ne frere,
But clene lyf and devocioun
Makith gode men of religioun.
Netheles ther kan noon answere,
How high that evere his heed he sher
With rasour whetted never so kene,
That Gile in braunches kut thrittene
Ther can no wight distincte it so,
That he dare sey a word therto.

But what herberwe that ever I take
Or what Semblant that evere I make,
I mene but gile, and folowe that.
For right no mo than Gibbe oure cat,
That a waiteth my ce and rattes to kyllen
Ne entende I but to bigilen.
Ne no wight may by my clothing
Wite with what folk is my dwellyng,
Ne by my wordis yit, parde,
So softe and so plesaunt they be.
Biholde the dedis that I do,
But thou be blynde thou oughtest s
For varie her wordis fro her deede,

And purchace hem theacqueyntaunces They thenke on gile withoute dreede.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

What maner clothing that they were
Or what estate that evere they here
Lered or lewde, lord or lady,
Knyght, squyer, burgeis, or bayly."

Right thus while Fals-Semblant

sermoneth

Eftsones Love hym aresoneth,
And brake his tale in his spekyng,
As though he had hym tolde lesyng,
And seide," What Devel is that I here ?
What folk hast thouusnempnedheere ?
May men fynde religioun
In worldly habitacioun?"
"Ye, Sir, it folowith not that they
Shulde lede a wikked lyf, parfey,
Ne not therfore her soules leese,
That hem to worldly clothes chese ;
For certis it were gret pitee.
iMen may in seculer clothes see
jFlorishen hooly religioun.
Full many a seynt in feeld and toune,
With many a virgine glorious,
Devoute and full religious

And wonnen hevene unto her home.
Good herte makith the goode thought,
The clothingyeveth ne reveth nought ;
The goode thought and the worching
That makith the religioun flowryng —
Ther lyth the goode religioun,
Aftir the right entencioun.

Whoso took a wether's skyniie,
And wrapped a gredy wolf therynne
For he shulde go with lambis whyte,
Wenest thou not he wolde hem bite ?
Yis, neverthelasse, as he were woode,
He wolde hem wery and drinke ther

bloode,

And wel the rather hem disceyve ;
For sith they cowde not perceyvc
His treget and his cruelte,
They wolde hym folowe al wolde he fle.
If ther be wolves of sich hewe
Amonges these apostlis newe,
Thou, Hooly Chirche, thou maist be

wailed,
Sith that thy Citee is assayled

Han deied,that comyn cloth aybeeren, Thourgh knyghtis of thyn owne table.

Yit seyntes nevere the lesse they weren. God wote thi lordship is doutable,

||I cowde reken you many a ten, If thei enforce [hem] it to wynne,

Ye wel nygh [al] these hooly wymmen, That shulde detende it fro withynnc.

I That men in chirchis herie and seke, Who myght defense ayens hem make ?

Bothe maydens and these wyves eke, Withoute stroke it mote be take

That barenfull manyafaire child heere, Of trepeget, or mangonel,

VVered alwey clothis seculere,
And in the same dieden they,
That seyntes weren, and ben alwey.
The xi. thousand maydens deere,

Without displaiyng of pensel.
And if God nyl done it socour,
But lat [it] renne in this colour,
Thou most thyn heestis laten be ;

Fhat beren in heven her ciergis clere, Thanne is ther nought but yelde thee,

Ofwhichemenredeinchircheandsynge, Or yeve hem tribute doutelees,

vVere take in seculer clothing, And holde it of hem to have pees.

(vVhanne they resseyved martirdome, But gretter harme bitideth thee

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That they al maister of it be. Take oon and make another straunge

Wei konne they scorne thee withal ; Now am I knyght, now chasteleyne,

By daye stuffen they the wall, Now prelat, and now chapeleyne,

And al the nyght they mynen there. Nowprest,nowclerk,andnowforstere;

Nay, thou planten most elles where Now am I maister, now scolere,

Thyn ympes, if thou wolt fruy t have ; Now monke, now chanoun, now baily ;

Abide 'not there thi-silf to save. What ever myster man am I,

Now am I prince, now am I page,

But now pees ! Heere I turne ageyne, And kan by herte every langage ;

I wole nomore of this thing seyne, Somme tyme am I hore and olde,

If I may passen me herby. Nowamlyonge,[and]stoute,andbolde;

I myghte maken you wery ; Now am I Robert, now Robyn,

But I wole heten you al-way Now Frere Menour, now lacobyn.

To helpe youre freendis, what I may, And with me folwith my loteby,

So they wollen my company ; To done me solas and company,

For they be shent al outerly, ThathightDameAbstinence-Streyned

But if so falle that I be In many a queynte array feyned,

Ofte with hem and they with me. Ryght as it cometh to hir lykyng,

And eke my lemman mote they serve, I fulfille al hir desiryng ;

Or they shull not my love deserve. Somtyme a wommans cloth take I,

Forsothe I am a fals traitour, Now am I mayde, now lady ;

God jugged me for a theef trichour ; Somtyme I am religious,

Forsworne I am, but wel nygh none Now lyk an anker in an hous ;

Wote of my gile til it be done. Somtyme am I Prioresse,
Thurgh me hath many oon dethresseyved, And now a nonne, and now Abbesse

That my treget nevere aperceyved ; And go thurgh alle regiouns,

And yit resseyveth, and shal resseyve, Sekyng all religiouns.

That my falsnesseshal nevere aperceyve. But to what ordre that I am sworne,

But who so doth, if he wise be, I take the strawe, and lete the corne

Hym is right good be war of me. To joly folk I enhabite ;

But so sligh is the deceyvyng I axe nomore but her abite.

That to hard is the aperceyvyng. What wole ye more ? In every wise, ?

For Protheus,thatcowdehymchaunge, Right as me lyst, I me disgise ;

In every shap homely and straunge, Wel can I wre me undir wede,

Cowde nevere sich gile ne tresoune Unlyk is my word to my dede.

As I. For I come never in toune, [I] make into my trappis falle,

There as I myght knowen be ; Thurgh my pryveleges, alle
Thoughmenmebothernyghthereandsee,That ben in Cristendome alyve,

Full wel I can my clothis chaunge, I may assoile and I may shryve

DAME ABSTINENCE-STREYNED

THE ROM OF THE R(

That they al maister of it be. Take oon and make another straunge,
Wcl konne they scorne thee withal ; v am I knyght basteleyne,^

By daye stuffen they the wall, Now prelat, and now chapeleyne,

And al the nyght they mynen there. Now prest, now clerk, and no wforsterfl

Nay, thou planten most elles where Now am I maister, now scolere,

Thyn yrnpes, if thou wolt fruy t have ; Now monke, now chanoun, now baily

Abide not there thi-silf to save. What ever myster man am I,

Now am I prince, now am I page,

But now pees ! Heere I turne ageyne, And kan by herte every langage ;

I wole nomore of this thing seyne, Somme tyme am I hore and olde,

If I may passen me herby. Nowamlyongc,} and jstoute,and bold

I myghte makcn you wery ; Now am 1 Robert, now Robyn,

But I wole heten you al-way Now Frere Menour, now lacobyn.

To helpe youre freendis, what I may, And with me folwith my loteby,

So they wollen my company; To done me solas and company.

For they be shent al outerly, That night Dame Abstinence-Streyns

But if so falle that I be In many a queynte array feyned,

Ofte with hem and they with me. Ryght as it cometh to hir lykyng.

And eke my lemman mote they serve, I fulfille al hir desiryng ;

Or they shull not my love deserve. Somtyme a wommans cloth take I,

Forsothe I am a fals traitour, Now am I mayde, now lady ;

God jugged me for a theef trichour ; Somtyme I am religious,

Forsworne I am, but wel nygh none Now lyk an anker in an hous ;

Wote of my gile til it be done. Somtyme am I Prioresse,
Thurgh me hath many oon dethresseyved, And now a nonne, and now Abbesse

That my treget nevere aperceyved ; And go thurgh alle regiouns,

And yit resseyveth, and shal resseyve, Sekyng all religiouns.

That my falsnesseshal nevere aperceyve. But to what ordre that I am sworne,

But who so doth, if he wise be, I take the strawe, and lete the corneJ

Hym is right good be war of me. To joly folk I cnhabite ;

But so sligh is the deceyvyng I axe nomore but her abite.

That to hard is the aperceyvyng. What wole ye more ? In every

ForProtheus,thatcowdehymchaunge, Right as me lyst, I me disgise;

In every shap homely and straunge, Wel can I wre me undir wede,

Cowde nevere sich gile ne tresoune Unlyk is my word to my dede.

As I. For I come never in toune, [I] make into my trappis falle,

I myght know^^^3aT8.3DM^lpfy|j^yfX^cleges, alle
mougnrncnrnebothemyghthereandsee,That ben in Cristendome alyve,

Full wel I can my clothis chaunge, I may assoile and I may shryve

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

(That no prelat may lette me)
All folk where evere thei founde be ;
I note no prelate may done so,
But it the pope be, and no mo,
That made thilk establisshing.
Now is not this a propre thing?
But where my sleight is aperceyved,
Of hem I am nomore resceyved,
As I was wont ; and wostow why ?
For I dide hem a tregetrie.
But therof yeve I lytel tale ;
I have the silver and the male.
So have I prechid, and eke shriven,
So have I take, so have me yiven
Thurgh her foly husbonde and wyf,
That I lede right a joly lyf,
Thurgh symplesse of the prelacye ;
They knowe not al my tregettrie.
But for asmoche as man and wyf

And if they done, I wole me pleyne,
For I wote where to pleyne wele.
Thou shalt not streyne me a dele
Ne enforce me, ne not me trouble
To make my confessioun double.
Ne I have none affeccioun,
To have double absolucioun.
The firste is right ynough to me,
This latter assoilyng quyte I thee.
I am unbounde — What ! Maist thou

fynde

More of my synnes me to unbynde !
For he that myght hath in his honde
Of all my synnes me unbonde,
And if thou wolt me thus constreyne
That me mote nedis on thee pleyne,
There shall no jugge imperial
Ne bisshop, ne official,
Donejugement on me; for I

Shulde shewe her paroch-prest her lyf Shal gone and pleyne me openly

Onys a yeer, as seith the book,
Er ony wight his housel took,
Thanne have I pryvylegis large
That may of myche thing discharge.
For he may seie right thus, parde : —
'Sir Freest, in shrift I telle it thee,
That he to whom that I am shryven
Hath me assoiled, and me yiven
For penaunce sothly for my synne
Which that I fonde me gilty ynne ;
Ne I ne have nevere entencioun,
To make double confessioun,
Ne reherce efte my shrift to thee ;
O shrift is right ynough to me.
This oughte thee suffice wele,
Ne be not rebel never a dele,

Unto my shriftefadir newe,

That highte not Frere Wolf untrewe !

And he shal chevys hym for me,

For I trowe he can hampre thee.

But lord ! he wolde be wrooth withall,

If men hym wolde Frere Wolf call;

For he wolde have no pacience,

But done al cruel vengeaunce;

He wolde his myght done at the leest

No thing spare, for goddis heest.

And god so wys be my socour,

But thou yeve me my Savyour

At Ester, whanne it likith me,

Withoute presyng more on thee,

I wole forth and to hym gone,

And he shal housel me anoon,

Forcertis, though thou haddistitsworn, For I am out of thi grucching;
I wote no prest ne prelat borne I kepe not dele with thee no thing.'

That may to shrift efte me constreyne. Thusmayhe shryve hym that forsaketh

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

His paroch prest, and to me takith ; But forto make hym glad and fawe
And if the prest wole hym refuse,

I am full redy hym to accuse,
And hym punysshe and hampre so
That he his chirche shal forgo.
But who so hath in his felyng
The consequence of such shryvyng,
Shall sene that prest may never have

myght

To knowe the conscience a-right
Of hym that is undir his cure.
And this ageyns Holy Scripture,
That biddith every heerde honeste
Have verry knowing of his beeste.
But pore folk that gone by strete,
That have no gold, ne sommes grete,
Hem wolde I lete to her prelates;
Or lete her prestis knowe her states.
Forto me right nought yeve they."

He seide : "Telle on more specialy,
How that thou servest untrewly ;
Telle forth, and shame thee never a dele,
For as thyn abit shewith wele
Thou semest an hooly heremyte."
"Sothe is, but I am an ypocrite."
"Thou goste and prechest poverte."
"Ye sir but richesse hath pouste."
"Thou prechest abstinence also."
"Sir, I wole fillen, so mote I go,
My paunche of good mete and [good]

wyne,

As shulde a maister of dy vyne ;
For how that I me pover feyne,
Yit all[e] pore folk I disdeyne.
I Love bettir thacqueyntaunce
Ten tyme of the Kyng of Fraunce,
Than of a pore man of mylde mode,
Though that his soule be also gode.

And why ?" For whanne I see beggers quakyng

It is for they ne may. Naked on myxnes al stynkyng

They ben so bare I take no kepe,
But I wole have the fatte sheepe ;
Lat parish prestis have the lene,
I yeve not of her harme a bene,
And if that prelates grucche it,
That oughten wroth be in her witt
To leese her fatte beestes so,
I shal yeve hem a stroke or two
That they shal leesen with [her] force
Ye bothe her mytre and her croce.
Thus jape I hem, and have do longe,

For hungre crie, and eke for care,
I entremete not of her fare.
They ben so pore and ful of pyne,
They myght not oonys yeve me a dyne.
For they have no thing but her lyf ;
What shulde he yeve that likketh his

knyf?

It is but foly to entremete,
To seke in houndes nest fat mete.
Lete bere hem to the spitel anoon,
But for me comfort gete they noon.

My pryveleges ben so stronge."

But a riche sike usurere
Fals-Semblaunt wolde have stynted Wolde I visite and drawe nere ;

« J

"cerc> Hym wole I comforte and rehete,

But Love ne made hym no such cheere For I hope of his gold to gete.
That he was wery of his sawe, And if that wikkid deth hym have,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

I wole go with hym to his grave ;
And if ther ony reprove me
Why that I lete the pore be,
Wostow how I mot a-scape ?
I sey and swere hym ful rape
That riche men han more tecches
Of synne than han pore wrecches,
And han of counsel more mister,
And therfore I wole drawe hem ner.
But as grete hurt, it may so be,
Hath soule in right grete poverte
As soule in grete richesse, forsothe,
Al be it that they hurten bothe;
For richesse and mendicitees
Ben clepid ii. extremytees ;
The mene is cleped suffisaunce,
Ther lyth of vertu the aboundaunce.
For Salamon, full wel I wote,
In his Parablis us wrote,
As it is knowe to many a wight,
In his thrittene chapitre right :
'God thou me kepe, for thi pouste,
Fro richesse and mendicite ;
For if a riche man hym dresso,
To thenke to myche on [his] richesse,
His herte on that so fer is sett,

And right thus was men wont to teche,
And in this wise wolde it preche
The maistres of divinite
Somtyme in Parys the citee.
And if men wolde ther-geyn appose
The nakid text and lete the glose,
It myghte soone assoiled be.
For men may wel the sothc see,
That, parde, they myght aske a thing
Pleynly forth without begging ;
For they were Goddis herdis dcere,
And cure of soules hadden heere.
They nolde no thing begge her fode ;
For aftir Crist was done on rode
With therpropre hondis they wrought,
And with travel, and ellis nought,
They wonnen all her sustenaunce,
And lyveden forth in her penaunce,
And the remenaunt yaf awey
To other pore folkis alwey.
They neither bilden tour ne halle,
But ley in houses smale with-alle.
A myghty man that can and may,
Shulde with his honde and body alway,
Wynne hym his fode in laboring,
If he ne have rent or sich a thing,
Al though he be religious,

That he his creatour foryett ;

And hym that begging wole ay greve, And god to serven curious.

How shulde I bi his word hym leve ? Thus mote he done, or do trespas,

Unnethe [is] that he nys a mycher
Forsworne or ellis God is Iyer.'
Thus seith Salamones sawes.
Ne we fynde writen in no lawis
And namely in oure Cristen lay

But if it be in certeyn cas,
That I can reherce if myster be
Right wel, whanne the tyme I se.
Seke the book of seynt Austyne,
Be it in papir or perchemyne,

(Whoso seith, 'Ye/ I dar sey, 'Nay,') There as he writ of these worchynges;
That Crist ne his apostlis dere, Thou shalt seen that noon excusynges

While that they walkide in erthe heere, A parfit man ne shulde seke
Were never seen her bred beggyng ; Bi wordis, ne bi dedis eke,
For they nolde beggen for no thing. Al though he be religious

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And god to serven curious,
That he ne shal, so mote I go,
With propre hondis and body also,
Gete his fode in laboryng,
If he ne have proprete of thing.
Yit shulde he selle all his substaunce
And with his swynk have sustenaunce,
If he be parfit in bounte;
Thus han tho bookes tolde me.
For he that wole gone ydilly
And usith it ay besily
To haunten other mennes table,
He is a trechour ful of fable,
Ne he ne may by gode resoun
Excuse hym by his orisoun ;
For men bihoveth in somme gise
Blynne somtyme in Goddis servise
To gone and purchasen her nede.
Men mote eten, that is no drede,
And slepe, and eke do other thing ;
So longe may they leve praiyng ;

Ne I ne wene not sikerly

That they may have it rightfully.

But I wole not determine

Of prynces power, ne defyne,

Ne by my word comprende, I-wys,

If it so ferre may strecche in this ;

I wole not entremete a dele.

But I trowe that the book seith wele,

Who that takith almessis that be

Dewe to folk, that men may se

Lame, feble, wery and bare,

Pore or in such maner care,

That konne wynne hem never mo,

For they have no power therto,

He etith his owne dampnyng,

But if he lye that made al thing.

And if ye such a truaunt fynde,

Chastise hym wel, if ye be kynde.

But they wolde hate you percas,

And if ye fillen in her laas,

They wolde eftsoonys do you scathe,

So may they eke her praier blynne, If that they myghte, late or rathe.

Whilethatthey werkehermeteto wynne. For they be not full pacient,

Seynt Austyn wole therto accorde
In thilke book that I recorde.
Justinian eke, that made lawes,
Hath thus forboden, by old dawes.
No man up peyne to be dede,

That han the world thus foule blent.
And witeth wel, that [though] God bad
The good-man selle al that he had,
And folowe hym, and to pore it yive,
He wolde not therfore that he lyve

Mighty of body, to begge his brede, To serven hym in mendience,
If he may swynke it forto gete ; For it was nevere his sentence

Menshuldehymrather mayme or bete, Buthe bad wirkenwhannethatneedeis,

Or done of hym aperte justice,
Than suffren hym in such malice.
They done not wel, so mote I go,
That taken such almesse so,
But if they have somme pry velege,
That of the peyne hem wole allege.
But how that is, can I not see,
But if the prince disseyved be.

And folwe hym in goode dedis.
Seynt Poule,thatlovedalHoolyChirche,
He bade thappostles forto wirche,
And wynnen her lyflode in that wise,
And hem defended truaundise;
And seide,' Wirketh with youre honden'
Thusshulde the thing be undirstonden.
He nolde, I-wys, have bidde hem begging.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Ne sellen gospel ne prechyng,
Lest they berafte, with her askyng,
Folk of her catel or of her thing.
For in this world is many a man
That yeveth his good for he ne can
Werne it for shame, or ellis he
Wolde of the asker delyvered be ;
And for he hym encombrith so,
He yeveth hym good to late hym go.
But it can hem no thyng profit
They lese the yift and the meryte.
The goode folk that Poule to preched
Profredhymofte,whan he hemteched,
Somme of her good in charite.

For whanne her swynkyng is agone,
They rede and synge in chirche anone.
And for ther hath ben gret discorde,
As many a wight may bere recorde,
Upon the estate of mendience,
I wole shortly, in youre presence,
Telle how a man may begge at nede,
That hath not wherwith hym to fede.
Maugre thisfelonesjangelyngis,
For sothfastnesse wole none hidyngis ;
And yit percas I may abey,
That I to yow sothly thus sey.

Lo heere the caas especial :

If a man be so bestial,

That he of no craft hath science,

But therfore right no thing toke he,

But of his hondwerk wolde he gete

Clothes to wryne hym, and his mete.7' And nought desireth ignorence,

Thanne may he go a-begging yerne,
"Tellemethannehowaman maylyven,
That al his good to pore hath yiven,
And wole but oonly bidde his bedis,

Til he somme maner crafte kan lerne
Thurgh which withoute truaundyng
He may in trouthe have his lyvyng.

Andneverewithhondeslabourhisnedeis. Or if he may done no labour

May he do so ?

" Ye sir."

" And how ?

" Sir, I wole gladly telle yow.
Seynt Austyn seith a man may be
In houses that han proprete,
As Templers, and Hospitelers,
And as these Chanouns Regulers,
Or White monkes or these Blake —
I wole no mo ensamplis make —
And take therof his sustenyng,
For therynne lyth no begging ;
But other wey[e]s not, y-wys,
Yif Austyn gabbith not of this.

For elde, or sykenesse, or langour,

Or for his tendre age also,

Thanne may he yit a-begging go.

Or if he have peraventure,

Thurgh usage of his norriture,

Lyved over deliciously,

Thanne oughten good folk comunly

Han of his myscheef somme pitee,

And suffren hym also that he

May gone aboute and begge his breed,

That he be not for hungur deed.

Or if he have of craft kunnyng,

And strengthe also, and desiryng

To wirken as he had what

But he fynde neithir this ne that,

And yit full many a monke laboreth, Thanne may he begge, til that he
That God in hooly chirche honoureth ; Have geten his necessite.

89 M

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Or if his wynnyng be so lite

That his labour wole not acquyte

Sufficiantly al his lyvyng,

Yit may he go his breed begging ;

Fro dore to dore he may go trace,

Til he the remenaunt may purchace.

Or if a man wolde undirtake

Ony emprise forto make

In the rescous of oure lay,

And it defenden as he may,

Be it with armes or lettrure

Or other covenable cure,

If it be so he pore be,

Thanne may he begge til that he

Banysshed for hir gret envye.
My modir flemed hym, Seynt Amour :
The noble dide such labour
To susteyne evere the loyalte,
That he to moche agilte me ;
He made a book, and lete it write
Wheryn hys lyfe he dyd al write,
And wolde ich reneyed begging,
And lyved by my traveylyng,
If I ne had rent ne other goode.
What ! Wened he that I were woode ?
For labour myght me never plese,
I have more wille to bene at ese,
And have wel lever, soth to sey,

May fynde in trouthe forto swynke, Bifore the puple patre and prey ;
And gete hym clothe, mete and drynke, And wrie me in my foxerie

Swynke he with hondis corporell

And not with hondis espirituell.

In al this caas and in semblables,

If that ther ben mo resonables,

He may begge as I telle you heere,

And ellis nought in no manere ;

As William Seynt Amour wolde preche,

And ofte wolde dispute and teche,

Of this mater all openly

At Parys full solempnely.

And, also god my soule blesse,

As he had in this stedfastnesse

The accorde of the universite

And of the puple, as semeth me,

No good man oughte it to refuse,

Ne ought hym therof to excuse.

Be wrothe or blithe who-so be,

For I wole speke and telle it thee,

Al shulde I dye, and be putt doun

Under a cope of papelardie."

Quod Love, "What devel is this that

I heere ?
What wordis tellest thou me heere?"

"What, Sir?"

"Falsnesse that apert is;
Thanne dredist thou not god?"

"No certis;

For selde in grete thing shal he spede
In this worlde, that god wole drede.
For folk that hem to vertu yyven,
And truly on her owne lyven,
And hem in goodnesse ay contene,
On hem is lytel thrift y-sene.
Such folk drinken gret mysese ;
That lyf may me never plese.
But se what gold han usurers
And silver eke in [her] garners,

As was seynt Poule in derke prisoun, Taylagiers and these monyours,
Or be exiled in this caas Bailifs, bedels, provost countours

With wrong, as maister William was, These lyven wel nygh by ravyne.
That my moder, Ypocrysie, The smale puple hem mote enclyne,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And they as wolves wole hem eten.

Upon the pore folk they geten

Full mocheof that theyspende or kepe.

Nis none of hem that he nyl strepe,

And wrine hem silf wel atte fulle ;

Withoute scaldyng they hem pulle.

The stronge the feble overgoth,

But I, that were my symple cloth,

Robbe bothe robbed and robbours,

And gile giled and gilours.

By my treget, I gadre and threste

The gret tresour into my cheste,

That lyth with me so faste bounde.

Myn highe paleys do I founde,

And my delites I fulfille

With wyne at feestes at my wille

And tables full of entremees.

I wole no lyf but ese and pees,

And wynne gold to spende also.

For whanne the grete bagge is go,

It cometh right with my japes.

Make I not wel tumble myn apes ?

To wynnen is alwey myn entent,

My purchace is bettir than my rent ;

For though I shulde beten be,

Over-al I entremete me ;

Withoute me may no wight dure.

I walke soules forto cure,

Of al the worlde cure have I

In brede and lengthe. Bold[e]ly

I wole bothe precheand eke counceilen;

With hondis wille I not traveilen,

For of the Pope I have the bull,

I ne holde not my wittes dull.

I wole not stynten in my lyve

These emperouris forto shryve,

Or kyngis, dukis, lordis grete ;

But pore folk al quyte I lete,

I love no such shryvyng, parde ;

But it for other cause be,

I rekke not of pore men —

Her astate is not worth an hen ;

Wherefyndest thouaswynkerof labour

Have me unto his confessour ?

But emperesses and duchesses,

Thise queenes, and eke countesses,

Thise abbessis, and eke bygyns,

These grete ladyes palasyns,

These joly knyghtis and baillyves,

Thise nonnes, and thise burgeis wyves

That riche ben and eke plesyng,

And thise maidens welfaryng,

Wher so they clad or naked be,

Uncounceiled goth ther noon fro me.

And for her soules savete

At lord and lady and her meyne

I axe, whanne thei hem to me shryve,

The proprete of al her lyve,

And make hem trowe, bothe meest

and leest,

Hir paroch prest nys but a beest
Ayens me and my companye,
That shrewis ben as gret as I.
Fro whiche I wole not hide in holde
No pryvete that me is tolde,
That I, by word or signe y-wis,
[Nyl] make hem knowe what it is.
And they wolen also tellen me,
They hele fro me no pryvyte,
And forto make yow hem perceyven,
That usen folk thus to disceyven,
I wole you seyn withouten drede
What men may in the gospel rede
Of seynt Mathew, the gospelere,
That seith as I shal you sey heere :

'Uppon the chaire of Moyses
(Thus is it glosed douteles :

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That is the Olde Testament,
For ther-by is the chaire ment)
Sitte Scribes and Pharisen
(That is to seyn, the cursid men
Whiche that we ypocritis calle).
Doth that they preche, I rede you alle,
But doth not as they don a dele ;
That ben not wery to seye wele,
But to do wel no will have they.

And congecte how to done hym falle.
And if we seen hym wynne honour,
Richesse, or preis, thurgh his valour,
Provende, rent, or dignyte,
Full fast y-wys compassen we
Bi what ladder he is clomben so ;
And forto maken hym doun to go
With traisoun we wole hym defame,
And done hym leese his goode name.

And they wolde bynde on folk al-wey, Thus from his ladder we hym take,
That ben to be giled able, And thus his freendis foes we make.

Burdens that ben importable. But word ne wite shal he noon,

Onfolkesshuldristhingestheycouchen, Till all hise freendis ben his foon.
That they nyl with her fyngris touchen.' For if we dide it openly

"And why wole they not touche it?"

"Why,

For hem ne lyst not sikirly,
For sadde burdons that men taken,
Make folkes shuldris aken.
And if they do ought that good be,
That is for folk it shulde se.
Her bordurs larger maken they,
And make her hemmes wide alwey,
And loven setes at the table,
The firste and moste honourable,
And forto han the firste chaieris
In synagogis to hem full deere is,
Andwillenthatfolkhemlouteandgrete,
Whanne that they passen thurgh the strete,
And wolen be cleped 'Maister' also.
But they ne shulde not willen so,
The gospel is ther-ageyns, I gesse,
That shewith wel her wikkidnesse.

Another custome use we
Of hem that wole ay ens us be ;
We hate hym deedly everichone,
And we wole werrey hym as oon ;
Hym that oon hatith hate we alle,

For hadde he wist of oure malice,
He hadde hym kept, but he were nyce

Another is this, that if so falle
That ther be oon amonge us alle
That doth a good turne out of drede,
We seyn it is oure alder deede.
Ye sikerly though he it feyned,
Or that hym list, or that hym deynec
A man thurgh hym avaunced be,
Therof all parseners be we,
And tellen folk where so we go,
That man thurgh us is sprongen so.
And forto have of men preysyng,
We purchace thurgh oure flateryng
Of riche men of gret pouste
Lettres to witnesse oure bounte,
So that man weneth that may us see
That alle vertu in us be.
And al-wey pore we us feyne ;
But how so that we begge or pleyne,
We ben the folk without lesyng
That all thing have without havyng.
Thus be we dred of the puple y-wis.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

And gladly my purpos is this:

I dele with no wight but he

Have gold and tresour gret plente;

Her acqueyntaunce wel love I,

This is moche my desire shortly.

I entremete me of brokages,

I make pees and manages,

I am gladly executour,

And many tymes procuratour ;

I am somtyme messager

(That fallith not to my myster),

And many tymes I make enquestes —

For me that office not honest is.

To dele with other mennes thing,

That is to me a gret lykyng.

And if that ye have ought to do

In place that I repeire to,

I shal it speden thurgh my witt,

As soone as ye have told me it.

So that ye serve me to pay,

My servyse shal be youre alway ;

But who-so wole chastise me,

Anoon my love lost hath he.

For I love no man in no gise

That wole me repreve or chastise ;

But I wolde al folk undirtake,

And of no wight no teching take ;

For I that other folk chastie,

Wole not be taught fro my folie.

I love noon hermitage more ;

All desertes, and holtes hore,

And grete wodes everichon,

I lete hem to the Baptist lohn.

I quethe hym quyte, and hym relese

Of Egipt all the wildirnesse.

To ferre were alle my mansiouns

Fro al citees and goode tounes;

My paleis and myn hous make I

There men may renne ynne openly ;

And sey that I the world forsake,

But al amydde I bilde and mak

Myhous,andswimmeandpleytherynne,

Bet than a fish doth with his fynne.

Of Antecristes men am I,

Of whiche that Crist seith openly,

They have abit of hoolynesse,

And lyven in such wikkednesse.

Outward lambreni semen we,

Full of goodnesse and of pitec,

And inward we withouten fable

Ben gredy wolves ravysable.

We enviroune bothe londe and se,

With all the worlde werrien we ;

We wole ordeyne of alle thing,

Of folkis good and her lyvyng.

If ther be castel or citee

Wherynne that ony bourgerons be,

Al though that they of Milayne were

(For therof ben they blamed there) ;

Or if a wight out of mesure

Wolde lene his gold and take usure,

For that he is so coveitous ;

Or if he be to leccherous,

Or these that haunte symonye,

Or provost full of trecherie,

Or prelat lyvyng jolily,

Or prest that halt his quene hym by,

Or olde horis hostilers,

Or other bawdes or bordillers,

Or elles blamed of ony vice

Of whiche men shulden done justice:

Bi all the seyntes that me pray,

But they defende them with lamprey,

With luce, with elys, with samons,

With tendre gees, and with capons,

With tartes, or with chesis fat,

With deynte flawns brode and flat,

With caleweis, or with pullaylle,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

With conynges, or with fyne vitaille, That al quyk we shulden hym brenne,
""' Or ellis yeve hym suchc penaunce

That we undir our clothes wide
Maken thourgh oure golet glide,
Or but he wolc do come in haste
Roo-venysoun bake in paste,
Whether so that he loure or groyne,
He shal have of a corde a loigne
With whiche men shal hym bynde

and lede

To brenne hym for his synful deede,
That men shull here hym crie and rore,
A myle-wey aboute and more ;
Or ellis he shal in prisoun dye,
But if he wole his frendship bye,
Or smerten that that he hath do
More than his gilt amounteth to.

That is wel wors than the pitaunce.
For thou shalt never for no thing
Kon knowen a-right by her clothing
The trai tours full of trecherie,
But thou her werkis can a-spie.
And ne hadde the good kepyng be
Whilom of the universite
That kepith the key of Cristendome
We had bene turmented, al and some.
Suche ben the stynkyng prophetis ;
Nys none of hem that good prophete is,
For they thurgh wikked entencioun,
The yeer of the Incarnacioun
A thousand and two hundred yeer,

But and he couthe thurgh his sleight Fyve and fifty, ferther ne ner,

Do maken up a tour of height, —

Broughten a book with sory grace

Noughtroughtl whethirofstone,ortree, To yeven ensample in comune place,

Or erthe or turves though it be,

That seide thus though it were fable :

Though it were of no vounde stone 'This is the Gospel Perdurable,

Wrought with squyre and scantilone, That fro the Holy Goost is sent.' —
So that the tour were stuffed well

With alle richesse temporell —
And thanne that he wolde updresse
Engyns bothe more and lesse,
To cast at us by every side
To bere his goode name wide,
Such flightes [as] I shal yow nevene,
Barelles of wyne by sixc or sevene
Or gold in sakkis gret plente,
He shulde soone delyvered be.
And if he have noon sich pitaunces,
Late hym study in equipolences,
And late lyes and fallaces,
If that he wolde deserve oure graces ;
Or we shal bere hym such witnesse
Of synne and of his wrecchidnesse,
And done his loos so wide renne,

Wel were it worthi to bene brent !
Entitled was in such manere
This book, of which I telle heere
Ther nas no wight in all Parys
Biforne Oure Lady at parvys
That he ne mighte bye the book
To copy, if hym talent toke.
There myght he se by gret tresoun
Full many fals comparisoun : —
'As moche as thurgh his gret myght,
Be it of hete or of lyght,
The sonne sourmounteth the mone,
That trouble is and chaungith soone,
And the note kernell the shell —
(I scorne not, that I yow tell) —
Right so, withouten ony gile,
Sourmounteth this noble Evangile

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

The word of ony evangelist.'
And to her title they token Crist.
And many such comparisoun
Of which I make no mencioun,
Mighte men in that book fynde
Who so coude of hem have mynde.

The Universite, that tho was a-slepe,
Gan forto braide and taken kepe,
And at the noys the heed upcast,
Ne never sithen slept it fast ;
But up it stert, and armes toke
Ayens this false horrible boke,
Al redy bateil for to make,

We wole a puple upon hym areyse,
And thurgh oure gile done hym seise,
And hym on sharpe speris ryve,
Or other weyes brynge hym fro lyve,
But if that he wole folowe y-wis
That in oure booke writen is.
Thus mych wole oure book signifie,
That while Petre hath maistrie,
May never lohn shewe well hismyght.
Now have I you declared right
The menyng of the bark and rynde,
That makith the entenciouns blynde;
But now at erst I wole bigynne,
To expowne you the pith withynne: —

And to the juge the book to take.

But they that broughten the boke there And the seculers comprehende,

Hent it anoon awey for fere ;
They nolde shewe more a dele
But thenne it kept, and kepen will,
Til such a tyme that they may see
That they so stronge woxen be,

That Cristes lawe wole defende,
And shulde it kepen and mayntenen
Ayenes hem that all sustenen,
And falsly to the puple techen.
That lohn bitokeneth hem that prechen

Thatnowyghtmayhemwclwithstonde. That ther nys lawe covenable
For by that book they durst not stonde. But thilke Gospel Perdurable,

Awey they gonne it forto here,
For they ne durste not answere
By exposicioun ne glose
To that that clerkis wole appose
Ayens the cursednesse y-wys
That in that booke writen is.
Now wote I not, ne I can not see
What maner eende that there shal be
Of al this [bokes] that they hyde;
!But yit algate they shal abide
Til that they may it bet defende,
This trowe I best wole be her ende.
Thus Antecrist abiden we,
'For we ben alle of his meyne ;
And what man that wole not be so,
|Right soone he shal his lyf forgo.

That fro the Holygost was sent
To turne folk that ben myswent.
Thestrengtheof lohn, they undirstonde
Thegraceinwhichetheyseiethey stonde,
That doth the synfull folk converte
And hem to lesus Crist reverte.
Full many another orriblite
May men in that booke se,
That ben comaunded douteles
Ayens the lawe of Rome expres ;
And all with Antecrist they holden,
As men may in the book biholden.
And thanne comaunden they to slecn
Alle tho that with Petre been ;
But they shal nevere have that myght,
And God to-forne for strif to fight,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

That they ne shal enowe fynde,
That Petres lawe shal have in mynde,
And evere holde, and so mayntene;
That at the last it shal be sene
That they shal alle come therto
For ought that they can speke or do.
And thilke lawe shal not stonde
That they by lohn have undirstonde,
But, maugre hem, it shal adowne,
And bene brought to confusioun.

But I wole stynt of this matere,
For it is wonder longe to here.
But hadde that ilke book endured,
Of better estate I were ensured;
And freendis have I yit pardee
That han me sett in gret degre.
Of all this world is Emperour
Gyle my fadir, the trechour,
And Emperis my moder is,
Maugre the Holygost y-wis.
Oure myghty lynage and oure rowte
Regneth in every regne aboute.
And well is worthy we [maystres] be ;
For all this world governe we,
And can the folk so wel disceyve,
That noon oure gile can percey ve ;

But me ne rekketh of no vice,
Sithen men us loven comunably,
And holden us for so worthy,
That we may folk repreve echoon,
And we nyl have repref of noon.
Whom shulden folk worshipen so
But us, that stynten never mo
To patren while that folk may us see,
Though it not so bihynde hem be.
And where is more wode folye
Than to enhaunce chyvalrie,
And love noble men and gay,
That joly clothis weren alway ?
If they be sich folk as they semen,
So clene as men her clothis demen,
And that her wordis folowe her dede,
It is gret pite, out of drede,
For they wole be noon ypocritis !
Of hem me thynketh [it] gret spite is ;
I can not love hem on no side.
But beggers with these hodes wide,
With sleigh and pale faces lene,
And greye clothis not full clene,
But fretted full of tatarwagges,
And highe shoes knopped with dagges
That frouncen lyke a quaile-pipe,
Or botis revelyng as a gype ;

And though they done, they dar not sey, To such folk as I you dyvyse

The sothe dar no wight bywray.
But he in Cristis wrath hym ledith
That more than Crist my britheren

dredith.

He nys no full good champioun
That dredith such similacioun,
Nor that for peyne wole refusen
Us to correcte and accusen.
He wole not entremete by right,
Ne have God in his eye-sight ;

Shulde princes and these lordis wise
Take all her londis and her thingis,
Bothe werre and pees in governyngis ;
To such folk shulde a prince hym yive,
That wolde his lyf in honour lyve.
And if they be not as they seme,
That serven thus the world to queme,
There wolde I dwelle to disceyve
The folk, for they shal not perceyve.
But I ne speke in no such wise

And therfore God shal hym punyce. That men shulde humble abit dispise,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

So that no pride ther-undir be.

No man shulde hate, as thynkith me,

The pore man in sich clothyng.

But God ne preisith hym no thing

That seith he hath the world forsake,

And hath to worldly glorie hym take,

And wole of siche delices use.

Who may that beg*ger wel excuse,

That papelard that hym yeldith so,

And wole to worldly ese go,

And seith that he the world hath lefte,

And gredily it grypeth efte ?

He is the hounde, shame is to seyn,

That to his castyng goth ageyn.

But unto you dar I not lye ;

But myght I felen or aspie

That ye perceyved it no thyng,

Ye shulde have a stark lesyng

The sikerer shal ye never be
For ostages, ne sikirnsese,
Or chartres, forto bere witnesse
I take youre silf to recorde heere,
That men ne may, in no manere,
Teren the wolf out of his hide,
Til he be flayen bak and side,
Though men hym bete and al defile.
What ! Wene ye that I wole bigile ?
For I am clothed mekely,
Ther-undir is all my trechery ;
Myn herte chaungith never the mo
For noon abit in which I go.
Though I have chere of symplenesse,
I am not wery of shrewidnesse.
Myn lemman Streyneth-Abstinence,
Hath myster of my purveaunce;
She hadde ful longe ago be deede,

Right in youre honde thus, to bigynne, Nere my councel and my rede ;
I nolde it lette ror no synne." Lete hir allone and you and me."

The god lough at the wondir tho,
And every wight gan laugh also,
And seide : — " Lo heerc a man, a right
Forto be trusty to every wight ! "

" Falssemblan t," quod Love, " sey to me,
Sith I thus have advaunced thee
That in my court is thi dwellyng,
And of ribawdis shalt be my kyng,
Wolt thou wel holden my forwardis ? "
"Yhe, sir, from hennes forewardis ;
Hadde never youre fadir heere biforne
'Servaunt so trewe, sith he was borne."

* That is ageynes all nature."

" Sir, putte you in that aventure ;
For though ye borowes take of me,

And Love answerde : " I truste thee
Withoute borowe for I wole noon."

And Falssemblant, the theef, anoon
Ryght in that ilke same place,
That hadde of tresoun al his face
Ryght black withynneand white with-

oute,
Thankyth hym, gan on his knees loute.

Thanne was ther nought but "Every

man

Now to assaut that sailen can,"
Quod Love, "and that full hardyly !"
Thanne armed they hem communly
Of sich armour as to hem felle.
Whanne the were armed fers and felle,
They wente hem forth all in a route,

THE ROM AUNT OF THE ROSE

And set the castel al aboute.

They will nought away for no drede,

Till it so be that they ben dede,

Or till they have the castel take.

And foure batels they gan make,

And parted hem in foure anoon,

And toke her way and forth they gone,

The foure gates forto assaile,

Of whiche the kepers wole not faile.

For they ben neithir sike ne dede,

But hardy folk and stronge in dede.

Now wole I seyn the countynaunce
Of Falssemblant and Abstynaunce,
That ben to Wikkid-Tonge went.
But first they heelde her parlement
Whether it to done were
To maken hem be knowen there,
Or elles walken forth disgised.
But at the laste they devysed
That they wolde gone in tapinage,
As it were in a pilgrimage,
Lyke good and hooly folk unfeyned.
And Dame Abstinence-Streyned
Toke on a robe of kamelyne,
And gan hir graithe as a Bygynne.
A large coverechief of threde
She wrapped all aboute hir heede ;
But she forgate not hir sawter ;
A peire of bedis eke she bere
Upon a lace all of white threde,
On which that she hir bedes bede.

And many a sermoun seide hir to ;
He nolde lette for man on lyve
That he ne wolde hir ofte shryve,
And with so great devocion
They made her confession,
That they had ofte, for the nones,
Two heedes in one hoode at ones.

Of fayre shappe I devyse her the,
But pale efface somtyme was she ;
That false traytouresse untrewe,
Was lyke that salowe horse of hewe,
That in the Apocalips is shewed,
That signifyeth tho folke beshrewed,
That ben al ful of trecherye
And pale through hypocrisye.
For on that horse no colour is,
But onely deed and pale y-wis,
Of suche a colour enlangoured
Was Abstynence i-wys coloured ;
Of her estate she her repented,
As her visage represented.

She had a burdowne al of Thefte,
That Gyle had yeve her of his yefte ;
And a skryppe of Faynte Distresse,
That ful was of elengenesse.
And forthe she walked sobrely ;
And False Semblant sayntyV vous die,
Had, as it were for suche mistere,
Done on the cope of a frere.
With chere symple and ful pytous,

But she ne bought hem never a dele, Hys lokyng was not disdeynous

For they were geven her I wote wele, Ne proude, but meke and ful pesyble.

God wote, of a full hooly frere,

About his neck he bare a byble,
And squierly forthe gan he gon ;
And, for to rest his lymmes upon,
He had of Treson a potent ;
98

That seide he was hir fadir dere
To whom she hadde ofter went
Than ony frere of his covent.
And he visited hir also,

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

As he were feble his way he went. Was tho become a lacobyn.

But in his sieve he gan to thring But sothely what so menne hym calle,

A rasour sharpe, and wel bytyng, Freres Prechours bene good menne

That was forged in a forge, alle,

Whichethat men clepen Coupe-gorge. Her order wickedly they beren,

So longe forthe her waye they nomen, Suche myn[e]strelles if they weren.

Tyl they to Wicked-Tonge comen.

So bene Augustyns and Cordyleres
And Carmes, and eke Sacked freercs
And alle freres, shodde and bare,
(Though some of hem ben gret and

That at his gate was syttyng,

And sawe folke in the way passyng.

The pilgrymes sawe he faste by,

That beren hem ful mekely,

And humbly they with him mette,

Dame Abstynence first him grette,

square)
Ful hooly men, as I hem deme.

And sythe him False-Semblant salued, Everyche of hem wolde good man seme ;

And he hem ; but he not remeued
For he ne dredde hem not a dele.
For whan he sawe her faces wele,
Alway in herte hem thought so,
He shulde knowe hem bothe two ;
For wel hekneweDame Abstynaunce,
But he ne knewe not Constreynaunce.
He knewenat that she wasconstrayned,
Ne of her theves lyfe [y-]fayned,
But wende she come of wyl al free ;
But she come in another degree ;
And if of good wyl she beganne
That wyl was fayled her [as] thanne.
And False-Semblant had he sayne alse,
But he knewe nat that he was false.
Yet false was he, but his falsnesse

But shalte thou never of apparence
Sene conclude good consequence
In none argument y-wis
If existens al fayled is.
For menne may efynde alwayesophyme
The consequence to envenyme,
Who so that hath hadde the subtelte
The double sentence for to se.

Whan the pylgrymes commen were
To Wicked-Tonge that dwelled there,
Her harneys nygh hem was algate ;
By Wicked-Tonge adowne they sate,
That badde hem nere him for to come
And of tidynges telle him some,
Andsaydhem: "What case maketh you
To come in-to this place nowe?"

Ne coude he nat espye nor gesse ;

For Semblant was so slye wrought,

That Falsenesse he ne espyed nought. "Sir," sayd Strayned- Abstynaunce,

"We, for to drye our penaunce

But haddest thou knowen hym beforne With hertes pytous and devoute
Thou woldest on a boke have sworne, Are commen, as pylgrimes gon aboute :
Whan thou him saugh in thylke araye, Wel nygh on fote always we go ;
That he that whilome was so gaye, Ful dousty ben our heeles two.

And of the daunce joly Robyn, And thus bothe we ben sent

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Throughout this worlde that is miswent, Ye sayde nothyng sothe of that ;

To yeve ensample, and preche also. But, sir, ye lye, I tel you plat^;

To fysshen synful menne we go,

For other fysshynge, ne fysshe we.

And, sir, for that charyte,

As we be wonte, herborowe we crave

Your lyfe to amende, Christ it save,

And so it shulde you nat displese,

We wolden, if it were your ese,

A shorte sermon unto you sayne."

And Wicked-Tonge answered agayne

"The house," quod he, "such as ye se
Shal nat be warned you for me,
Say what you lyst, and I wol here."

"Graunt mercy, swete sir, dere,"
Quod alderfirst Dame Abstynence,
And thus began she her sentence :

"Sir, the firste vertue certayne,
The greatest, and moste soverayne
That may be founde in any man
For havynge or for wytte he can,
That is his tonge to refrayne.

He ne cometh no more, negothe,parde !
I trowe ye shal him never se.
Fayre-Welcomyng in prison is,
That ofte hath played with you er this i
The fayrest games that he coude,
Withoute fylthe, styl or loude ;
Nowe dare he nat him selfe solace.
Ye han also the manne do chace,
That he dare neyther come ne go ;
What meveth you to hate him so,
But properly your wicked thought,
That many a false lesyng hath thought, i
That meveth your foole eloquence,
That jangleth ever in audyence,
And on the folke areyseth blame,
And doth hem dishonour and shame,
For thynge that maye have no prevyng
But lykelynesse, and contry vyng ?

For I dare sayne that reason demeth,
It is nat al sothe thynge that semeth ;
And it is synne to controve
Thynge that is to reprove ;

Therto ought every wight him payne, This wote ye wele ; and, sir, therfore

For it is better stylle be
Than for to speken harme, parde ;
And he that herkeneth it gladly,
He is no good man sykerly.

And, sir, aboven al other synne,
In that arte thou moste gylty inne.
Thou spake a jape not long a-go
(And, sir, that was ryght yvel do)
Of a yonge man, that here repayred
And never yet this place apayred.
Thou saydest he awayted nothyng

Ye arne to blame [wel] the more.
And nathelesse he recketh lyte
He yeveth nat nowe therof a myte,
For if he thoughte harme, parfaye,
He wolde come and gone al daye ;
He coude himselfe nat abstene.
Now cometh he nat, and that is sene,
For he ne taketh of it no cure,
But if it be through aventure,
And lasse than other folke, algate.
And thou her watchest at the gate,
With speare in thyne arest alwaye ;

But to disceyve Fayre-Welcomyng. There muse, musarde, al the daye.

100

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Thouwakest nightanddayforthought ; Why shulde men sey me such a thyng

I-wis thy traveyle is for nought. If it hadde bene gabbyng?

And lelousye, withouten fayle, Rygh* so seide I and wol seye yit ;

Shal never quyte the thy traveyle. I trowe I lied not of it.

And skathe is that Fayre-Welcomyng And with my bemes I wole blowe

Withouten any trespassyng, To alle neighboris a-rowe,

Shal wrongfully in prison be, How he hath bothe comen and gone."

There wepeth and languyssheth he. Tho spake Falssemblant right anone :

And though thou never yet, y-wis, "All is not gospel, oute of doute,

Agyltest manne no more but this, — That men seyn in the towne aboute ;

Take nat a grefe, — it were worthy Ley no deef ere to my spekyng ;

To putte the out of this bayly, I swere yow, sir, it is gabbyng ;

And afterwards in prison lye, I trowe ye wote wel certeynly,

And fettre the, tyl that thou dye. That no man loveth hym tenderly

For thou shalt for this synne dwelle That seith hym harme, if he wotc it,

Right in the devels ers of helle, All be he never so pore of wit.

But if that thou repente thec." And soth is also sikerly

"Mafay, thou liest falsly !" quod he. (This knowe ye, sir, as wel as I)

"What ? welcome with myschaunce That lovers gladly wole visiten

nowe ! The places there her loves habiten.

Have I therfore herberd yowe Thismanyowlovethandekehonoureth

To seye me shame, and eke reprove This man to serve you laboureth,

With sory happe, to youre bihove? And clepith you 'his freend so deere,'

Am I to day youre herbegere? And this man makith you good chere,

Go herber yow elles-where than heere, And every-where that [he] you meteth

That han a Iyer called me ! He yow saloweth and he you greteth.

Two tregetours art thou and he, He preseth not so ofte that ye

That in myn hous do me this shame, Ought of his come encombred be ;

And for my sothe-saugh ye me blame. Ther presen other folk on yow

Is this the sermoun that ye make ? Full ofter than he doth now.

To all the develles I me take, And if his herte hym streyned so,

Or elles, God, thou me confounde ! Unto the Rose forto go,

But er men diden this castel founde, Ye shulde hym sene so ofte nede,

It passith not ten daies or twelve That ye shulde take hym with the dede.

But it was tolde right to my selve, He cowde his comyng not forbere

And as they seide, right so tolde I : Though he hym thrilled with a spere ;

He kyst the Rose pryvyly ! It nere not thanne as it is now.

Thus seide I now and have seid yore ; But trustith wel, I swere it yow,

I not where he dide ony more. That it is clene out of his thought ;

101

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Sir, certis he ne thenkith it nought, And seth alwey such apparaunce,
No more ne doth Faire-Welcomyng, That nygh he fel in repentaunce

And seide hym: — "Sir, it may wel be,

That sore abieth al this thing.
And if they were of oon assent,
Full soone were the Rose hent,
The maugre youres wolde be.
And, sir, of o thing herkeneth me:
Sith ye this man that loveth yow
Han seid such harme and shame now,
Witeth wel if he gessed it,
Ye may wel demen in youre wit
He nolde no thyng love you so,
Ne callen you his freende also ;
But nyght and day he wolde wake
The castell to destroie and take,
If it were soth as ye devise ;
Or some man in some maner wise,
Might it warne hym everydele,
Or by hymsilf percey ven wele.

Semblant, a good man semen ye ;
And, Abstinence, full wise ye seme ;
Of o talent you bothe I deme.
What counceil wole ye to me yeven ?"
" Ryght heere anoon thou shalt be shry veil
And sey thy synne withoute more ;
Of this shalt thou repente sore.
For I am prest, and have pouste
To shryve folk of most dignyte
That ben, as wide as world may dure,
Of all this world I have the cure,
And that hadde never yit persoun,
Ne vicarie of no maner toun.
And, God wote, I have of thee
A thousand tyme more pitee
Than hath thi preest parochial,

For sith he myght not come and gone Though he thy freend be special.

As he was whilom wont to done,
He myght it sone wite and see.
But now all other wise doth he.
Thanne have, [ye] sir, al outerly
Deserved helle, and lolyly
The deth of helle douteles,
That thrallen folk so gilteles."

I have avauntage in o wise

That youre prelatis ben not so wise,

Ne half so lettred as am I.

I am licenced boldely

To rede in Divinite

And to confessen, out of drede.

If ye wol you now confesse,

And leve your sinnes more and lesse
Fals Semblant proveth so this thing, Withoute abood, knele down anon,

That he can noon answeryng,

And you shal have absolucion."

102

THE END

THE ROMAUNT : U THE RC

ris he nc thenkith it nought,
No more ne doth Fairc-Welcomyng,
That sore abicth al this thing.
And if they were of oon assent,
Full soone were the Rose hent,
The maugrc youres wolde be.
And, sir, of o thing herkeneth me:
Sith ye this man that loveth yow
Han seid such harme and shame now,
VViteth wcl if he gessed it,
Ye may wel dcmen in youre wit
He nolde no thyng love you so,
Ne callen you his freende also ;
But nyght and day he wolde wake
The castell to dcstroic and take,
If it were soth as ye devise ;
Or some man in some maner wise,
Might it warne hym everydele,
Or by hymsilf percey ven wele.

. .'•• : raunce,

: nygb a repentaunce

{ seide hym: — "Sir, it may wel be,
Semblant, a good man semen ye ;
And, Abstinence, full wise ye seme;
Of o talent you bothe I deme.
What counceil wole ye to me yeven ?"
"Ryghtheereanoonthoushaltbeshryve
And sey thy synne withoute more;
Of this shalt thou repente sore.
For I am prest, and have pouste
To shry ve folk of most dignyte
That ben, as wide as world may dure,
Of all this world I have the cure,
And that hadde never yit persoun,
Ne vicarie of no maner toun.
And, God wote, I have of thee
A thousand tyme more pitee
Than hath thi precst parochial,

F*or sith he myght not come and gone Though he thy frcend be special.

As he was whilom wont to done,
He myght it sone wite and see.
But now all other wise doth he.
Thanne have, [ye] sir, al outerly
Deserved helie, and lolyly
The deth of hclle douteles,
That thrallen folk so gilteles."

Fals Semblant provcth so this thing,
That he can noon answeryng,

I have avauntage in o wise

That youre prelatis ben not so wise,

Ne half so 1. u am I.

I am liccnc lely

To rede in Divinite

And to confessen, out of drede.

If ye wo] you now confesse,

And leve your sinnes more and lesse

Withoute abood, knele down anon,

And you shal have absolucion."

3HT

HERE ENDS THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE IN THE
VERSION ASCRIBED TO GEOFFREY CHAUCER. BY
COURTEOUS PERMISSION OF MESSRS MACMILLAN
& CO, THE TEXT FOLLOWED IS THAT EDITED BY
PROF. MARK H. LIDDELL IN THE GLOBE EDITION

GLOSSARY

ABIETH, pays for
ABOOD, delay
ABRAIDE, ABREYD, awoke
ACOYE, coax
ADAMAUND, magnet
AFFRAIETH, arouses
AFFYE, trust
AGULER, needle-case
AGYLTE, offend
ALDER, of all
ALDERFIRST, first of all
ALEYS, fruit of the service-tree
ALGATE, any way
ALOSED, praised
ALPES, bullfinches
ALTO-SHARE, cut in pieces
APAIED, contented
APPERT, open
ARCHAUNGELL, titmouse
AREST, in rest
ATTEMPRE, temperate
AUNTRE, adventure
AVAUNT, forward
AVENAUNT, comely
AVYSION, vision
AWMERE, bag for alms

BAALIS BEETE, bale's boot — harm's cure

BAUDE, gay

BAUNDON, power

BERNE, barn

BESAUNT, a small gold coin

BESAUNT-WIGHT, the weight of a besaunt

BIGOO, clothed

BIMENE, bemoan

BISEKE, beseech

BISETT, employs

BLENT, to blench

BLYNNE, cease

BOLAS, bullace, the wild plum

BORDILLERS, brothel-keepers

BOROWES, pledges

BRAIDE, start

BURNET COTE, brown garment

BURNETTES, brown garments

BYGYNS, beguines, a charitable order of women

BYHOTE, promise

BYNOMEN, taken away

BYRDE, bride

BYSTADDE, bestead

BYTRASSHED, betrayed

CALEWEIS, pears
CANELL, cinnamon
CHELAUNDRE, lark
CHEVESAILE, collar
CHEVISAUNCE, bargain
CHICHE, CHYNCHY, niggardly
CIERGIS, tapers
CLAPERS, burrows
CLOWE-GELOFRE, clove-gillyflower
COMYN, common
CONTROVE, contrive
CONYNGES, rabbits
CORDE A LOIGNE, tether-cord
CORDYLERES, a Franciscan order
CORUMPABLE, corruptible
COSSE, kiss
COUNTOURS, auditors
COURTEPY, short cloak

COVENABLE, fit

COVYNE, deceit
CRIANDE, crying
CUNNE, study

DAMPNYNG, condemning

DAUNGERB, power, or domain

DAWES, days

DECOPED, slit

DELICES, delights

DELYVER, quick

DELYVERLY, nimbly

DEVER, duty

DEYNOUS, DEIGHNOUS, disdainful

DISPITOUS, contemptuous

DOANDE, doing

DOME, judgment

DRUERIE, affection

DURST, need

105

EGRE, sharp

EISEL, vinegar

ELENGENESSE, misery

EMPRISE, enterprise

ENCHESOUN, occasion

ENTREMETE, interfere

EQUIPOLENCES, equivalents

ERKE, weary

ERNES, pledges

ESTERS, ESTRES, ESTREES, inmost part

FARCE, paint
FA WE, fain
FELE, many
FETTE, fetched
FETYS, neat
FLAWNS, pancakes
FLEMED, exiled
FLOWTOURS, pipers
FOISOUN, increase
FONDE, foolishly
FORDWYNED, wasted
FORPYNED, wretched
FORTHENKE, repent
FORWELKED, withered
FORWERED, worn out
FOR-WO, weary
FRETT, adorned
FROUNCED, wrinkled

GADELYNG, vagabond

GNEDE, gnawed

GOLET, gullet

GOUNFANOUN, banner

GRAITHE, GRAYTHE, prepare

GREE (TAKE ATTE), agree to

GREVE, grove

GREYN DE PARADYS, a kind of spice

GROYNE, grant

GRUCCHING, grumbling

GYPE, tunic

GYSARME, halberd

HAIRE, hair-shirt
HATTE, be called
HAWTEYNE, haughty
HAVE, hedge
HEERDIS, coarse flax
HENDE, gracious
KENT, caught

GLOSSARY

HTJRRPI

of a house

106

HONDE, nana
HOOLE, whole
HORIS, prostitutes
HOTE, promise
HOTETH, promises

JAGOUNCES, jacinths
JANGELYNGIS, chatterings
JUPARTIE, jeopardy

KAMELYNE, camel's hair
KAROLE, a dance, singing
KEPE, care
KERNELS, loopholes
KIDDE, revealed
KIRKED, crooked
KNOPPIS, buds

LAAS, snare
LACCHE, snare
LAVEROKKES, larks
LEMES, beams
LENYNG, lending
LEPANDE, leaping
LERE, learn
LESYNGES, falsehoods
LETTRURE, learning
LOIGNE, tether
Loos, fame
LORERES, bay-trees
LOSENGERE, flatterer
LOTEBY, paramour
LOURE, lower
LOWITH, praises

MAATE, dejected
MANGONEL, a military engine
MAUGREE, in spite of
MENTES, mint
MES, advantage
MEVERESSE, agitator
MEYGNED, maimed
MEYNDE, mingled
MOEBLE, movable
MOURDAUNT, part of the girdle
MOWE, may

Mowis, stacks or heaps in a barn
MOYSOUN, crop

MUSARDE, dreamer
MYCHER, thief
MYSSEYE, traduce
MYSSAIERE, scandal-monger
MYSTER, need

NEDELY, of necessity
NEIGH, nigh, come nigh
NEMPNED, called
NOKKED, notched
NORRITURE, nurture
NYCETE, folly

OLMERIS, elms

OMAGER, vassal

ONDE, hatred

ORFRAYS, embroidery in gold

PAIE, content
PALASIE, palsy
PALASYNS, palaces
PAPELARDIE, deceit
PARSENERS, partners
PATRE, to repeat prayers
PEIRE, injure
PENSEL, banner
PERDURABLE, enduring
PERELL, pearl
PERSANT, piercing
POPPED, over-dressed
POSSED, pushed
POTENT (BY), with a crutch
POUSTE, power
POYNTEN, prick or probe
POYNT DEVYS (AT), minutely
PRECE, press
PREY, pray
PRILLE, spin round
PROVENDE, food
PROWE, profit

PULLAYLLE, fowl

PUPLE, people
PURVEAUNCE, providence
PYMENT, spiced wine and honey

1 QUARELS, cross-bow bolts

| QUEME, please

J QUOINT, quaint

I QUYSTROUN, scullion

GLOSSARY

RACYNE, root
RAMAGE, wild
RAPE, haste
RECCHITH, care
REFUYT, refuge
REHETE, cheer
REMEUED, removed
RESCOUS, rescue
REVED, robbed
RISHE, rush
ROKET, linen vest
RONE, bush
ROUKYNG, cowering
ROYNE, scurf
RYVE, pierce

SAILLOURIS, dancers
SAUFF, except
SCANTILONE, mason's rule
SCOCHOUNS, escutcheons
SETEWALE, valerian
SHENDE, harm
SHENDITH, confounds
SHERE, shorn
SHOP, shoved
SIBBE, related
SIKERLY, surely

SlTTANDE, fitting

SKATHE, harm

SLOWE, sluggard

SOTHE-SAWE, true story

SOUPLE, pliant

SOUPLEN, make pliant

SPARTHE, axe

SPAUNYSSHINGE, blooming

SPRYNGOLDES, stone-throwers

STARFE, died

STONTE, stand

STOUNDE-MELE, at times

STOUNDES, instants

STYF IN STOUR, stubborn in conflict

SUKKENYE, a jacket

SWEVENINGES, dreams

SWIRE, throat

SWITHE, quickly

TAPINAGE, hiding
TATARWAGGES, tatters
TEMPRURE, tempering
TENE, sorrow

107

TERINS, finches

THWYTEN, whittled

TO-DRAWE, to draw asunder

TO-SLYTERED, slashed

TREGET, trickery

TREPEGET, engine for casting stones

TRETYS, well-formed

TROWANDYSE, TRUANDISE, vagrancy

TWYNNE, separate

TYMBRES, timbrels or tabors

TYMBESTER, a timbrel-player

UNNETHE, scarcely

VEER YLICHE, spring-like
VEKKE, old woman
VOLAGE, giddy

WARISOUN, reward
WARNEN, denied

GLOSSARY

WEM, blemish
WENE, doubt
WERE, danger
WERNE, refuse
WERREID, persecuted
WEYMENTYNG, lamentation
WISLY, surely
WODEWALES, a. kind of bird
WOLL, wool, will
WONE, abundance
WOODE, mad
WREYING, betrayal
WRINE, WRYNE, cover
WYNDRE, to trim the hair

YEECHYNG, itching
YERNE, desirous
YFERE, together
YMPED, grafted
YNDE, indigo

Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON 6* Co.
Edinburgh &• London

BINDING crrr. NOV 61972

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

PR
1888
A2
1911

Chaucer, Geoffrey

The Romaunt of the Rose

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Full text of "The Romaunt of the Rose. Rendered out of the French into English by Geoffrey Chaucer and illustrated by Keith Henderson & Norman Wilkinson of Four Oaks"

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